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Chapter Text

The horse stops just short of the ridge, allowing its rider to look out over the small village below with contempt. The little community teems with peasants, all of them heading in the direction of their homes so they can make it in time for supper. None notice the king watching them from up above, his posture regal while a red cape billows in the wind behind him. Even from a distance Uther Pendragon can see the man he's been searching for. There, walking down the path, holding the hand of a young boy with a wicker basket, is the dragonlord. The last of them all. With a scowl Uther kicks his horse, pulling on the reins to turn it around as he sets off towards the village.

-----

The little boy hums happily to himself as he skips down the dirt paths, keeping a firm hold on the small basket filled with apples his father had entrusted him with. He looks down at the fruits and smiles, wondering whether his mother would be happy with the ones he had picked out. He had made sure to find the shiniest and juiciest looking apples just for her. His mother loves apples and he's sure she'll love the ones he picked! 

"Come on, Merlin," his father says from a short distance in front of him, a hand outstretched in his direction. "We don't want to make your mother wait do we?" Merlin nods, quickly dashing up to hold his father's hand as the man leads them towards their home. 

Before they've even reached the house the door opens. Hunith looks out, smiling at her son and husband as they appear down the path. Merlin spots her first and with a blinding smile on his face races towards the house. "Mum! We're home!" he shouts as he jumps into his mother's waiting arms. 

Hunith chuckles at her son's energy then plants a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Welcome home my boy," she says with a smile.

"Look! Look!" Merlin holds out the basket in front of him, "We picked apples!" 

Hunith peers into the basket only to find it relatively empty save for a single fruit. "Merlin... were you eating on your way home again?" she chides.

The boy first looks at her in surprise then down into the basket in his hands. "Ah! They're gone!" he turns around, "Papa! The apples went poof!"

Balinor laughs as he walks up to his family, numerous apples cradled in his arms. "They're right here, Merlin," he says, showing the fruits to the boy, "they didn't go poof."

"Papa! The apples are for mum! You can't take them!" The boy whines as he reaches for the apples in his father's arms. 

Balinor laughs, taking the basket from the boy's hands before placing the fruit gently in. "I didn't take them. You dropped them when you ran over to your mother."

"Oh..." Merlin looks down a little shyly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as his face flushes red, "Oops. I'm sorry."

Hunith giggles then pats the boy's head. "Let's go inside. Dinner's ready!" She says cheerfully as she carries her son into the house with Balinor following behind them. 

Hunith sets Merlin down on the ground once they're inside, telling him to go wash up before dinner. The boy nods then rushes towards the bucket of water in the back of the house, again, humming to himself happily. 

Balinor watches Merlin dash off with a smile before setting the basket down on one of the side tables. He slumps down on the bench, listening contently at his son's off tune humming. "I wish I still had that much energy," Balinor says, looking to Merlin. 

Hunith chuckles, setting the bowls of stew down on the table. "Now don't say that. You're still young. Plenty of time ahead of you."

Balinor laughs, but it's soon cut off when he catches something peculiar out of the corner of his eyes. He turns to find that there's a bucket of water floating about in the back of the room. The water sloshes wildly back and forth but none of its contents spill out. Instead they hang where they are, suspended in the air. "Merlin!" Balinor says, raising his voice.

The boy squeaks and immediately the bucket and water all drop to the ground. Merlin peers out from around the corner, looking guilty as his father walks over and crouches down beside him. "What have I said about using magic?" he demands with a stern glare. 

Merlin looks down at his feet. "No magic when it's not lesson time."

"That's right. Now I don't want to catch you doing that again, especially not outside. Are we clear?" 

Merlin nods, keeping his head down. 

Balinor gives a gentle smile then pats the boy's head. "Good, now come on. Let's eat." He leads his son back to the table, who still looks glum from being scolded, and they sit down as Hunith joins them. She purses her lips at her son when she notices the disappointment on his face. She knows he wants to use magic, wants to be able to do the things his father can, but he's still much too young. Still too young to be able to control his magic properly. He's talented, even Balinor has admitted that, and he even has the makings of a powerful warlock, but she doesn't want anything to happen to him. If the others in the village find out they'd kill him. 

"I've told you, Merlin. You can only use magic when your father is giving you lessons. You can use it more freely when you learn more," she chides. 

Merlin pouts and doesn't reply. Instead, he grabs the spoon and starts stirring the contents of his bowl. Hunith sighs, looking to Balinor who only shakes his head and begins to eat. Hopefully, one day Merlin will understand why. "Now don't be like that," she says more softly than before, "how about I prepare some of the apples you brought as a snack after dinner?" 

Merlin perks up, "I can have apples after?" 

"Of course, but you have to finish everything in your bowl."

The little boy gives a wide smile. "Yay! Mum's the best!" he says, starting to gobble down large spoonfuls of stew.

Balinor chuckles before turning to his son with a mock expression of sadness. "What about Papa? Is Papa not the best?"

Merlin looks between his mother and father, looking conflicted as he tries to come up with an answer. "Papa's good too."

"Only good? Not best?"

"Mum's already the best! You can't both be best!"

Hunith giggles at her son's words and her husband's dejected expression. Balinor turns back to his bowl, picking at his stew as he mutters to himself about how Merlin doesn't love him anymore. 

"Papa! I still love you!" Merlin says as he tugs on his father's tunic, hoping to get him to smile again and to his delight his father does. Balinor bends down, scooping his son up in his arms as he snuggles against him until his son is giggling from the light scruff scratching against his face.  

The room seems to glow in front of Hunith as she watches the two people she loves the most in her life laughing and smiling with one another. She watches them contently, having long forgotten about the food in front of her as she giggles to herself at their shenanigans. The candle light flickers warmly on the table in front of her, casting a soothing light that seems to shut them all away in their own little world. 

But the illusion of peace is soon shattered. Never to be put back together again. A loud banging begins at the door, and at first there's only a few hard pound, no immediate cause for alarm, but soon the sound intensifies, growing in volume until the entire door is bending at the force. The hinges creak with each successive hit, allowing more and more of the darkness outside to enter the little house as the weakened metal gives way. A gust of wind blows through the crack, snuffing out the candle without difficulty and plunging the room into a silent darkness.

Balinor gets to his feet, still hugging Merlin close to his chest. His eyes narrow at the door, his teeth gritted in anger as the blood pumps through his veins to the rhythm of the pounding on the door. He looks down at his son, hearing the little whimpers he makes as he clutches onto his father's clothes. He looks to his wife, who is staring worriedly at the collapsing door, but despite the fear gets to her feet. She turns to him, glances down at her son, then smiles and walks to the door without a hint of fear in her eyes. Balinor tries to stop her, but before he can even move from his seat she's already at the door. 

With one last breath she puts on a smile and opens the door. Almost immediately the expression drops from her face, being replaced with one of horror as a blade is pointed towards her throat and she's forced to step back. Balinor can feel Merlin trembling in his arms and he knows that the boy needs him now more than ever, but still he sets him down at the table, whispering a quick 'stay' before turning towards the door with a hand outstretched. 

The bearer of the weapon slowly creeps out from behind the door, tip of the blade still pointed towards Hunith's throat. Balinor narrows his eyes, feeling the magic course through his veins with excitement after its long rest. He's ready. Ready for anything. He'll blast away whoever dares to threaten his wife and son. Make sure they never disturb them again. 

He doesn't though. He doesn't get the chance as the moment the figure emerges he freezes because the one standing at the door is none other than Uther Pendragon. 

Taking his chance, Uther grabs Hunith, pulling her in front of him until he's successfully shielded himself with her body. Balinor knows he can't move, as one wrong action could get the love of his life killed. So instead, he looks to the king, conveying the anger he feels though his eyes as he  lets that cursed name slip through his lips. "Uther."

The king smiles at him, "It's been awhile, old friend."

Balinor takes a step closer, only stopping when he notices Uther drive the point just a bit further into Hunith's throat, making blood trickle down from her neck. "I'll come with you. Just let her go," the warlock says, trying to sound demanding. 

Uther smirks, gesturing with a hand for him to move closer. Balinor glances back, meeting the bright eyes of his son who looks on the verge of tears as he cowers behind the table. He turns back to face Uther then takes a few tentative steps forward. He holds a hand out, waiting for the king to hand over his wife when, in one swift motion, the blade is driven through his chest.

Balinor gasps, knees buckling as the life begins to drain out of him. The only thing he registers is the desperate cry from Merlin and Hunith as she runs to his side, dropping down beside him to cradle his head. Tears stream down her cheeks, each droplet landing against her husband's face as she holds him tightly to her chest. His breathing soon becomes shallow, growing heavier and heavier with each second that passes. 

"No, love, you have to stay awake," she whispers, patting his cheek, "you can't go."

"Papa!" Merlin calls, climbing down from his seat and dropping down beside his mother. "Papa you're bleeding!" 

Balinor only smiles, not having the strength to speak, but the smile soon disappears when he sees the figure of the king loom up behind his wife. His eyes widen in warning as he tries to push Hunith out of the way, but it's too late. The blade comes down, creating a deep gash that cuts across her back. She falls forward, lying atop her husband as she too struggles to breathe. The whole world seems to melt around him, the colour seeping away slowly like the blood that flows from his body. He gives a laboured breath, reaching a hand up to caress his wife's face, hoping to see something. Anything. A reaction of some kind, but in the end he's only met with stillness. Her eyes have already shut and he can no longer feel her chest rising and falling above him. His vision dims, the edges blackening as his consciousness sways. He forces his eyes open, turning them to look at his son who's weeping now overtop them both. His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks stained with tear tracts as he grabs onto both their tunics, pulling and tugging. Balinor can only smile at him as he raises up a hand to still Merlin's own. He clutches at the little hand, not wanting to let him go. Not so soon. There's still so much he had wanted to tell him. So much that he wanted to say, and now, with his life draining away he can't find the words. His eyes start to close, and the last thing he hears is the quiet sound of his son's voice as he calls him one last time. 

"Papa?" the little boy calls hoarsely, staring at the two bodies on the floor. "Mum?" he calls again, a little louder this time as though afraid they hadn't heard him. He shakes them both, but neither move. His father's hand that had just moments before been clutching his own is now limp and still.

Uther turns his attention to Merlin, eyes showing no sign of sympathy or pity for the boy who had just lost his parents. He walks over, sword still stained a dark red from the blood of the boy's family. He tilts his head at the child, watching him as the boy turns to look at him. Merlin's eyes flare up a bright gold at the sight of the king and almost instantly the plates float up around him, the table shaking now as the child's magic starts to run wild. Uther snarls at the boy, lifting up his sword again for one last strike when, suddenly, he stops. He stares down at the child, a new thought entering his mind. 

He cleans off his weapon instead, sheathing it in his belt before bending down and picking up the boy. The child continues to cry, arms flailing now as he tries to push away from the stranger. Uther only watches in amusement, finding entertainment in the warlock's futile attempts at escape. With one last look at the still bodies on the floor Uther turns around, heading out of the room with the crying boy in his grasp.

Chapter Text

The young prince dashes out the gates of the castle, leaving laughter in his wake as he runs through the courtyard and out into the lower town. He sends a quick glance behind him, searching to see if any of his father's knights had followed him and when he sees no one he grins with pride for having been able to dodge his father's best soldiers. He slows to a stop once he's a safe distance away then glances around the town, eyes wide in amazement as he gazes in wonder at the scene around him.

The city thrives with life. There's movement everywhere and Arthur can hardly keep up with everything going on around him. There's animals wandering the streets and market stalls lining the sides. Sounds of laughter and the mutters of the townsfolk as they weave through the crowd is something the young prince had never experienced before. To say he's excited is an understatement. He's ecstatic. Energized at the sight of the bustling crowds, the smells, the sounds. It's the first time he's ever gotten the chance to truly wander out into the lower town and he isn't about to allow the moment to go to waste.

The prince skips through the town. His eyes shining at every new thing he sees. He notices a few curious glances in his direction from some of the passerby's, but other than the stares they leave him well enough alone - much to the Arthur's delight. After all, it would only cause trouble if they decided to call the guards, or worse call his father.

Arthur doesn't stop on his adventure until he hears laughter coming from around the corner. He slows, peering around the wall to see a group of children dashing around a row of houses. They all seem to be close to his age, which would be around eight summers. There are two boys and three girls, all giggling as they run around happily. Laughter is all the prince hears as the boys and girls chase each other around. He watches them eagerly, feeling his blood pump with the desire to join them. The desire to leap out and run himself ragged with the other children. He wants to go out, wants nothing more than to go out, but how does he do it? Does he walk in and join them? Does he ask?

Thankfully, he doesn't need to make a choice when one of the little girls stops in the middle of being chased. She stares straight at him, then smiles widely."Do you wanna play?" she calls over to him with a wave.

Arthur looks at them in surprise. He points to himself then asks cautiously, "Me?"

"Yes, you!" The same girl says with a grin while dashing over to him. "Come on, come on!" she says, pulling him over, "it's more fun with more people!" The other children all smile in agreement, starting to pull at his arm as well while they look at him with wide grins.

The prince smiles, excited and giddy at the prospect and nods, letting them pull him into their little game. The grins widen on the children's faces and they start to explain the game to him excitedly, happy to make a new friend.

Arthur learns the rules quickly enough. It wasn't that hard after all and so he starts to dash about with the other children. He laughs and smiles, enjoying himself more than he has in a long time. The feeling of elation in his chest is almost indescribable. It's like a sudden rush, a surging feeling that obscures ones sense of time. He doesn't know how long he darted around the houses with the other children, but all he does knows is that he never wants the moment to end, but of course it always does.

Soon enough his father appears around the corner, regal and intimidating as he always is. The prince doesn't notice the king at first, having been busy chasing one of the boys when suddenly the other children stop. He crashes face first into the boy's back, rubbing at his nose as he stands back up. "Why did you-" He cuts himself off when he sees his father's shadow towering over him, and when he turns around to face the king he finds his eyes narrowed.

"Arthur," his father says, voice cold, "what are you doing here?"

The prince scrambles to his feet quickly, standing with his back straight just as he's been taught. "I-I'm playing catch the sorcerer."

Uther looks towards the other children who've all cowered backwards in fear of the king. The man scowls at them then turns to his son, grabbing the boy's arms and hauling him off towards the castle. "We're going home."

"Wait! But-" Arthur calls, not knowing where the courage had come from, but he digs his heels into the ground in an attempt to stop.

"Are you defying me?" Uther growls, voice dangerously low as he stops to glare.

Arthur immediately stops, remembering his place, then hangs his head down submissively. "No..."

"Good. Now, let's go."

The prince follows and sends one last glance behind him, finding the other children have already run off. He looks down at the dirt in front of him, kicking up plumes of dust as he walks. They left him.

-----

Arthur sits with his father at the dinner table, looking at the empty seats around him as he picks at his food. Out of the eight chairs at the table, only two are occupied.

He turns to look at his father who's eating his food intently with a look of disappointment on his face, sending occasional glances in his son's direction. The king doesn't say anything, leaving them both in a tense silence.

"Father?" Arthur asks quietly, breaking the stillness.

"What is it?" his father grumbles in a low voice.

"Can I go play with them again tomorrow? I'll finish all my lessons and do all my chores before going."

The spoon reaches halfway to the king's mouth before it stops. Uther sets the spoon back down then glares at his son. "No, I will not have you playing with children of such lowly status."

Arthur puffs out his cheeks, "But-"

"Enough!" Uther shouts, fists slamming on the table and making the plates rattle. Arthur flinches back, hanging his head down in an obedient gesture. "You are the prince of Camelot. Soon to be the future king. You have no time for such silly games."

"B-"

"Go. To. Your. Room."

The boy flinches again at the tone of his father's voice. He looks down at the table, then pushes his chair back and walks off towards his chambers, careful not to show his anger. He enters the room, shutting the door behind him with frustration. Never. His father never lets him play with the other children. Why is that? Does his father not trust him? He already promised to finish all his chores and lessons. Is that not enough?

Arthur gives a frustrated growl before walking over to the window and looking out over the courtyard. Even from up in his room he can see a few children playing with each other as they wait for their parents outside on the courtyard. How he wishes he could join them, to play and frolic mindlessly, but of course that's a silly dream. His father would never let him.

With one last forlorn glance, he turns around and crawls into bed, curling underneath the blankets in the large room alone.

-----

A few days later the halls of the castle are filled with the giggles of a young prince as he ducks behind a pillar. The shouts from the boy's caretaker echo through the corridor and from what he can hear she's desperate to find him. He pokes his head out from around the corner, watching with an amused grin as his nursemaid, Mary, wanders back and forth frantically down the hall. He feels a little bad for her, but if his father isn't going to allow him to play outside with the other boys and girls then he needs to have fun some other way and fun to him means messing with his nursemaid.

He chuckles to himself as he hides behind the pillar and the longer he watches her stumble about the harder he starts to laugh. Almost instantly, he sees Mary whip her head around in his direction at the sound of his laughter. "Arthur!" She shrills at him, partially in anger and partially in relief. "You must return to your chambers! You have lessons at noon!"

"But they're boring!" he shouts back from his spot behind the pillar, arms crossed as he looks over at the woman. "I want to go play with the other children too!"

His nursemaid sighs, shaking her head as she walks towards him. "Don't be silly. You're the prince! You need to learn how to become a wise king, just like your father. You don't have time to be playing around."

Arthur scowls at the familiar words and the mention of his father. It's always father this, father that. Why couldn't he do what he wanted for once? The other children always do! So why can't he? He harumphs, gets to his feet, spins on his heel, then bolts down the hall.

"Arthur!" Mary shouts again in frustration, but by then the prince has already disappeared around the corner.

-----

Arthur slows his pace when he enters an unfamiliar part of the castle. He looks around, wondering where he's wandered too. He thought he had explored every part of the citadel already. Who knew there was still more!

Excited, he begins his exploration. The hall he's in now is empty. The usual hustle and bustle of the servants and guards gone. He finds the feeling odd, having long grown accustomed to seeing all the familiar faces that wander to and fro that it's almost eerie now that it's suddenly missing.

After another few minutes of exploration he comes to a door on his left. He stops and stares, again growing excited at the potential mysteries inside. The wood looks ancient and the hinges have started to rust. The handle that sits a little above his head looks loose and seems to be about to break, but from what he can tell still usable. He reaches a shaking hand up towards the handle then, gently, pushes it open. The door creaks loudly, the hinges straining after years of disuse. Arthur walks in and already the dust clogs his nostrils. There's a thin layer of grey coating everything in the closet, clearly indicating the rooms lack of use. Other than a few odd crates stacked here or there, a tipped barrel, and a rickety shelf there seems to be nothing inside.

Arthur frowns, disappointed at the lack of treasure in the room. He was expecting gold, jewels, maybe a sword he could use to fight off a dragon, but of course there's nothing of the sort. It's just an old closet. The little prince sighs, dragging a finger over the shelf and wiping off nothing but a film of dust.

He turns, ready to leave the room and explore further down the hall when he manages to stub his toe on one of the crates. He gives a loud yelp, tipping backwards and landing butt first on the ground. He whines a little at the pain, but holds back the stray tears threatening to fall. He's a big boy now, his father said so, and big boys don't cry.

"Hello?"

Arthur lets out another yelp in surprise and quickly starts to look around with alertness. When he doesn't find anyone nearby he frowns. Is he hearing things?

"I-is someone up there?" A voice says again a little hesitantly.

Arthur lets out another surprised squeak. There's no doubt about it. Someone else is here. "Um... hello?" Arthur calls back into the gloom.

"Hello!" the voice suddenly yells back, sounding much more enthusiastic than before yet still a little timid.

Again, Arthur looks around, still finding no one in sight. "Where are you?" he says as he starts to search the room for the source of the voice, making sure to check inside the crates and any small corner that a child can hide in. He knows it has to be a child. The voice is too high to be an adult's. And from what he can tell it sounds like a boy. Hopefully someone close to his age. At that thought the prince grows excited. There's some else here. Some else that he can play with! Hopefully this time his father won't find out.

"Here!" the boy shouts.

"Where?" Arthur shouts back, a little frustrated now when he still doesn't find anyone.

"Here!" the boy calls loudly and Arthur finally hears it now. The voice is coming from behind a crate.

Arthur walks over, pushing aside the box until he finds a grate that runs along the bottom of the wall. The prince bends down to look through the slits. He can't see very much, only the faint outline of a slim figure hunched over in the darkness, looking up at him. "Hello," Arthur says as he stares at the boy below then smiles, "I'm Arthur Pendragon. Who are you?"

"Um..." the boy mumbles, now suddenly shy again, "I-I'm Merlin. A-at least that's what I remember being called."

The prince laughs. "Merlin? That's a stupid name!"

The boy doesn't respond, but when Arthur leans in closer to the bars he swears he can hear a quiet sniffling. He freezes, suddenly aware of how insulting his words must have been. He's the stupid one. How was he supposed to make friends like this? "I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean it!" Arthur shouts down frantically, feeling awkward. He's rarely ever had the chance to talk to other children his age after all.

"Is my name stupid?" the boy asks quietly, still sniffling.

"No! It's a great name! It's um... unique!"

The sniffling stops. "Unique?"

"Unique! Like um... like a... unicorn!"

A giggle rises up from the grate and the sound is refreshing, calming even. Without the prince even realizing he had done so he finds himself grinning, smiling at the sound of the laughter that fills the room.

"What's a unicorn?" the boy asks, still chuckling, "Sounds like something you made up."

Arthur puffs out his cheeks, "Did not! They're real!"

The boy laughs again. "What do they look like?"

"Like horses, but pure white and with this big horn on it's head! They're supposed to be really beautiful and rare! Only the best of hunters find one!"

"It's no wonder you haven't found one then," the boy jokes with a laugh.

Arthur puffs up his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. Who does he think he is? Insulting the prince like this? "Do you realize who I am?" Arthur demands.

"A prat?"

The prince's face turns red. He dares to call a prince a prat? What even was a prat? "Is your head alright?"

"I'm pretty sure it is. I didn't hit it on anything," the boy replies.

"Where do you live? Are you from some farm really, really far away or something?"

"No. I live here."

"Where?"

"Here."

"Here, where?"

"Here."

Arthur grimaces, even more frustrated now. The only conclusion he can come to is that the boy must be an idiot. There's no other reason he can think of. "I know you live here in the city. But I mean where in the city? Are you from the lower town?"

"No. I live here. In this room."

Arthur's face scrunches up in confusion. Room? He leans in as close as he can to the bars, trying to get even that much more of a glimpse into the room. He manages to see four walls made of stone towering up and around the figure in the centre. A single door faces opposite the grate, letting not even a sliver of light through.

Darkness. That's the only word he can think of to describe what he sees. The boy lives in a room made of darkness. The prince shivers at the sight, knowing what it feels like to be locked in one of the cells in Camelot's dungeons, but even that can't compare to the blackness below. At least in the dungeons he could still see the sun. Here? There's nothing. Nothing but emptiness. "Why are you there?" Arthur asks, concerned.

"I don't know. I've been here for a long time."

"How long?"

There's silence for a moment. "I don't know."

"Where are your parents? Your mother and father?"

Silence. And then quietly, "Gone. I'm alone down here."

Arthur's face drops, knowing the feeling of being alone. It's terrible to never have anyone around to talk to. To understand your feelings. After a moments silence he asks tentatively, "Aren't you lonely?"

"Yes..." the boy replies sadly, but almost in an instant the life is back in his voice, "but not right now!"

Arthur tilts his head a little to the side, not sure what the other boy means. "What do you mean?"

"Because," the boy shouts back, "you're here! You're here so I'm not alone anymore!"

A flutter of warmth spreads through his chest at hearing the words. He's not alone. Neither of them are because right now... right now they have each other. "You're not alone..." he mutters to himself, a smile appearing on his face and he hopes that right now, Merlin is smiling too.

Chapter Text

"Prince Arthur?! Where are you?! You're going to be late!" The nursemaid's voice echoes from outside the door. 

The prince stiffens at the sound, having long forgotten about his angered nursemaid hunting him down. 

"What was that?" Merlin asks from his little room. "Is there someone else?" There's a hint of excitement in his voice at the prospect of another person. 

"It's my nursemaid," Arthur says with annoyance, "she's looking for me."

"Why? Did you do something bad?" 

Arthur puffs out his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course not! I'm a good boy!" 

Merlin giggles and the sound makes the prince smile rather proudly. 

"Arthur!" His nursemaid yells again, voice much closer. 

"I-I have to go," the prince says quickly, scrambling to his feet. He looks down at the grate and suddenly doesn't want to leave. He feels the urge to hide here, talking with the boy in the dark room forever so they'll never be alone again. But the ever increasing volume of his nursemaid's voice shatters that dream. "I'll come back."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I'll come back tomorrow and we can talk again, okay?" He smiles widely down at the grate despite knowing that Merlin would probably never see it.

"You will?" 

"Of course!"

"Okay, then tomorrow!" 

Arthur smiles then pushes open the door, turning around to give the abandoned closet one last look before walking out into the hall. Once he shuts the door behind him he spots his nursemaid rounding the nearest corner, spotting him almost instantly. "Prince Arthur!" She shrieks at him, stomping over, "we must go. Gaius is already asking for you and you mustn't keep him waiting!"

She takes his hand and guides him towards Gaius' chambers hurriedly. With no choice the prince reluctantly follows with a wide grin on his face. Even when he enters the physician's chambers the smile is still there, making Gaius raise his eyebrow in question as the boy sits down at the work table and the nursemaid leaves. 

"Did something good happen?" He asks quizzically with a tilt of his head. 

Arthur grins with a glint in his eyes that hinted at a secret. "I made a friend!" He says proudly. 

-----

"So where do you live?" Merlin asks from down below the next day, sounding interested.

"Me?" Arthur puffs up his chest a little in pride. He sets his back straight against the wall he's sitting against, acting as though he had just received a compliment from the king himself. "I live in the royal palace of Camelot!" he announces proudly.

"Amazing!" the boy exclaims in awe, "where's that?"

Again Arthur is taken aback at Merlin's lack of knowledge but he supposes its not the boy's fault he lives alone in that room. "It's where we are right now. The greatest kingdom in all the lands! And I'm going to be the king of it one day!" 

"A king! You're a king?" Merlin asks with enthusiasm.

The prince grins to himself, proud to have impressed the other lad. "Not yet but in a few years I will! Father said so!" 

"You must be good at lots of things." 

"Of course I am," Arthur says, sounding more than just a little egotistic, "I need to lead the best kingdom ever after all."

"You sound so talented. I can't do anything," Merlin mumbles, sounding embarrassed. 

"Well, not everyone can be as talented as me, but I'm sure you can do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You need to find out. Just think about it."

Merlin is quiet for a moment as he thinks and after a few minutes Arthur peers through the grate again with concern. Just as he's about to call for the other boy, Merlin answers, "I can make things fly."

Arthur frowns at the grate, wondering if he's joking with him. "Make things fly?"

"Yup! See, I'll show you!" 

Within a few seconds there's a flash of gold from the darkness and a small pebble floats up through the grate, hovering a few inches off the ground before him. Arthur stares at it in awe and at first all he can think about is that the rock really was flying and how Merlin is a very special child if he can make things fly. He smiles while he waves his hand around the object, finding no strings attached to it. He pokes the pebble and sure enough it stays aloft, staring back at him. He lets out an amused chuckle but it quickly dies away when a sudden realization hits him. Sorcery. This is sorcery. 

The prince reels back, crashing into a box behind him in his frantic attempt at escape. A plume of dust rises up as the crate crashes to the floor, further separating him and the sorcerer down in the cell. It doesn't stop him from hearing Merlin calling out to him, voice filled with worry and concern. "Are you okay? There was a loud noise," the boy calls out.

Arthur finds his throat tightening, closing up until words can no longer escape from his mouth. He remembers all the stories his father and nursemaids used to - and sometimes still - tell him. He remembers the ones about blood thirsty sorcerers and treasonous witches. He remembers the stories about how they would bewitch young and unsuspecting children into their homes before they would cook them up into stew. He remembers his father's warnings about them. About how they aren't human. About how they aren't the same as him and the other townspeople around him. 

Suddenly, the pebble that just moments before had seemed so extraordinary now seems like a harbinger for death. He scrambles back even further, not stopping until his back hits the wall behind him. He shivers and trembles, not wanting to be enchanted and lured away into some pot of a warty old witch. 

"Arthur?" Merlin calls, voice quiet and afraid, "are you still there?"

The prince doesn't reply, but instead starts pushing the crates around him, shielding himself with the piles of empty boxes. He ducks behind the small mountain he's erected around himself, holding up a piece of timber as a weapon before calling back. "Get away! Sorcerer!" he shouts, feeling his eyes tear up at the thought of perhaps dying here in this dusty old closet. 

Regret starts to naw away at his mind, the guilt from not listening to his nursemaid and his father making him feel ill to the stomach. Despite this he keeps a firm grip on the piece of wood in his hands, using all the tactics and skills his father had taught him thus far in his knight training. His eyes are focused on the pebble and his arms shake when he sees the stone falter momentarily in the air. He lifts his arms up, ready to strike in case the little rock comes flying at him but instead it clatters to the ground. 

Arthur lowers his guard, letting his grip on the timber loosen. He frowns at the grate on the wall then looks to the door in front of him that leads back out into the hall. After crouching on the ground motionless for a few more seconds he gets to his feet, quickly crawling over the crates and rushing towards the door.

His steps are loud as he tromps over to the door, having yet to learn any form of stealth at the age of eight. He almost trips on another crate as he stumbles to the door, already thinking of how he should tell his father when he hears Merlin speak from his little room down below. "Arthur?" He calls timidly, "d-did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, please don't go..." 

Arthur pauses for a moment, hand midway to the handle as he hesitates. There's a second that he considers turning back around, considers stopping and returning to the boy, but the words echoing from the king makes him grasp the handle and push the door open. 

He steps out, quickly slamming the door shut before running down the hall without another look back. He returns to his chambers, running inside to find his nursemaid pacing back and forth in his room, face creased with worry lines. She jumps the moment the door opens, turning on him in an instant with a hiss of fury. "Prince Arthur! Where have you been! I was worried sick about you! This is the second time in two days you've disappeared on me!" she sighs, shaking her head, "Now, come on. We need to hurry and get you changed for your lessons with Gaius." 

She turns towards his cupboard, starting to rummage through the closet for a fresh outfit as the prince scowls at her back, highly doubting that she had worried much about him. Probably was only worried for her job. "Where's father?" he asks. 

"He's out on a hunting trip with Lord Bayard. He won't be back for another few hours I'd suspect," she answers without turning, "now here, lets get you changed." She walks over with a fresh set of clothes, reaching forward to pull off his old tunic. 

Arthur frowns, but lets her do as she wishes. He holds his arms up, letting the nursemaid change him as he mumbles to himself about what to do.  Should he tell one of the knights? They should know how to handle the situation, they're hand picked by his father after all. Besides, the faster the sorcerer is dealt with the better right? Isn't that what his father taught him?

"Come on now, let's go. You're going to be late!" his nursemaid says, taking his hand and guiding him down to the physician's chambers for the day's lesson. 

It's not until they're half way to the physician's chambers before Arthur spots one of his father's knights wandering through the corridor. Quickly, he pulls his hand away from the nursemaid, earning a few angered shouts from her, and dashes towards the knight. He grabs on the man's sleeve, pulling him to a stop. The knight, Sir Galahad, turns to him with a bow. "Ah, prince Arthur. How may I be of service to you today?"

Arthur opens his mouth to answer, about to warn him about the sorcerer hiding away in that little room when suddenly he chokes on his words. They lodge in his throat, not wanting to come out no matter how hard he tries. He can tell the knight's losing his patience as the man taps his foot, raising a quizzical brow but not having the courage to question the young prince. Arthur continues to struggle with his words, hoping he can force them out but the only sound he's able to make are quiet mumbles. 

Before long his nursemaid catches up to him, grasping his wrist and tugging him back the way they had come. "I'm sorry, sir. Please carry on with your duties," she says to the knight with a sweet smile before turning on him, "Come along now your highness. Gaius is waiting."

The prince allows himself to be led down the hall as he tries to piece together the reasons as to why he might have suddenly stopped. He's never choked up before - aside from perhaps the first time he had to address one of his father's noble friends - so why would he now? What's stopping him? Did that boy cast a spell?

He still doesn't find the answer when he arrives at the physician's door and is led inside. There, he finds the old man in his usual red robe hunched over his table of bubbling concoctions. Gaius looks up at them as they enter, sending the young prince a beaming smile before hobbling over. "Ah, Arthur my boy. How are you doing today?" He asks, bending down on his old knees to the height of the blonde. 

The prince just grumbles then turns away, still puzzled at the question about the sorcerer. The nursemaid sighs, muttering a quick apology to the old man before turning to leave. 

Once she's out of the room Gaius turns his attention back onto the little prince. He raises an eyebrow at the boy, "Is there something troubling you?"

Arthur shakes his head without meeting the physician's gaze. 

"You know you can come talk to me about anything," he says, hoping that'll probe the words out of the boy's mouth. 

Arthur looks up. "Anything?" He asks. 

"Anything."

"And you won't tell father?"

Gaius frowns at the odd question. For as long as he's known the boy he's never wanted - or dared - to hide anything from the king. What could be enough to change that?

The physician guides the prince onto one of the benches then sits down across the table from him with a smile. "Of course I won't. Now tell me what's been bothering you?" 

Arthur stares down at his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs as he chooses his words carefully. "Can sorcerer's make things fly?" 

Gaius is taken aback at the odd question. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Do they, Gaius?"

The old man sighs and replies, "yes, in a way they can."

"Can normal people do that too?"

"No, they shouldn't. Not without some tricks." 

Arthur slumps down in his seat, looking rather disappointed at the answer. There really wasn't any point in asking. There's no way Merlin isn't a sorcerer. Only sorcerer's make things fly... 

"Arthur," Gaius says, making the boy look back up, "do you want to talk about it?" 

The prince thinks for a moment, hesitant, but this is Gaius. He's old, wise, and promised not to tell his father. Maybe he can help. "I um... made a new friend, but..." he stops, not wanting to go further. After all, what he's about to say is bordering on treason.

Gaius smiles calmly at the boy, "it's alright. You're safe here. No one will hear you and I won't tell anyone. You have my word."

Arthur swallows then continues, "I... I think he's a sorcerer. I don't know what to do. He's bad, but..." the moment before he says his next few words he knows it was the reason why he had choked up earlier, "I also thinks he's not bad too." Tears start to flow from his eyes at the frustration and almost immediately he reaches up to wipe them away. He sniffles then looks to Gaius expectantly, hoping for some kind of words of advice. 

The old man ponders the issue for a moment, knowing how stressful the situation must be for the young prince. He doesn't know what he should say in all honesty. He wants to let Arthur know the truth, not the distorted lies Uther has spread, and allow the child to decide for himself what magic really is, yet he cannot defy the king lest he wishes to lose his head. 

He looks at the boy and his frustrated eyes again, feeling a tug of pity. No child should need to make such a choice. A choice between a friend or family. After much deliberation the old man comes to a conclusion. He gets up from his seat and moves to sit beside the young prince. He leans in close until he's able to whisper into the boy's ear. "You told me your secret, now let me tell you one of mine," Gaius says, "though you must also promise not to say a word."

The prince nods, staring in anticipation at the elder man before him. He turns in his seat until he's facing the physician and sees him grab an empty potion vial from the table, holding it up between them. Arthur stares in confusion when suddenly, with a few uttered words and a glow of the eyes, the vial floats up into the air. Gaius removes his hand and still the bottle remains aloft. "Is this what you saw?" the physician asks as he lets the object spin in place.

The prince nods, having been shocked into silence as he watches the potion twirl in the air. Gaius can make things fly too. Does that mean Merlin isn't a sorcerer? Gaius isn't and he can make things fly. 

The physician smiles at the expression on his student's face then carefully lets the bottle drop back onto the table. "Now, I want you to answer me honestly, did you think I was going to hurt you?"

Arthur shakes his head.

"Did you think it was bad that I can make objects float?"

Again, Arthur shakes his head.

"From all the years you've known me, did you ever think I was a bad person?"

Arthur shakes his head in a vigorous 'no'.

"Now are you still afraid if I told you I was a sorcerer too once?"

This time the prince reels back, leaping off from his seat and moving as far as he can away from the old man. Gaius is a sorcerer? He's bad too? With that thought in mind he suddenly sees the caring old man in a whole new light. He sees a dark shadow looming up behind the physician, darkening his smile, devouring his goodness. He trembles at the sight. Oh how right his father was. Sorcerers are truly the masters of deception. 

The physician frowns at the reaction, getting up and seeing the boy flinch at the action. "I won't hurt you, Arthur."

"Liar!" Arthur shouts, brandishing a broom that's larger than him as a weapon, "all sorcerers lie!"

Gaius sighs then walks up closer to him. "I think you know me well enough to know that I won't hurt you or anyone my boy."

The prince looks the old man up and down, seeing his warm smile, his kind eyes, the hands that have healed his own father and many others numerous times. He tries to force the image away, to replace it with what he's been taught about sorcerers all his life, but it just feels so... wrong. No matter how hard he tries it never comes out right. Everything good he knows about the physician always manages to dissipate all the bad that comes with the title of sorcerer. His grip loosens and the the hardened look in his eyes soften slightly. The shadow that had been growing behind the old man disappears in a sudden ray of light and all the boy can do is drop the broom, running up to the old man and throwing his arms around him in a wide embrace. 

Gaius smiles as Arthur buries himself in the red robes of the physician. He sniffles, uttering quite words of apology while the old man runs a gentle hand through his hair. "Now, what do you think about your new friend?"

Arthur sniffles again, pulling away. He looks up at the physician, eyes red and puffy as he speaks, "He's not bad."

Chapter Text

Arthur stares up at the battered door in front of him, using the faint light of the candle to illuminate the corridor as best he can. He swallows thickly, watching the light quiver with his hands as he tries to calm all the nerves in his body that are telling him to turn and run. He had spent the rest of the night yesterday pondering what to do. He had slept fitfully, hardly getting a wink of rest and yet by morning he still hadn't made up his mind. Sure, he believes that Merlin may not be bad, but that doesn't mean he should commit treason right under his father's nose. 

It took the rest of the morning to reach his current decision, but even now he hesitates as he stands in front of the door with the candle in his hand. Should he? Does he dare?

Slowly, with a tentative hand he reaches for the handle. He gives it a light push forward, hearing the hinges creak as the door opens and the dusty room is revealed before him. Swinging the light around the room as he looks he finds that everything is the same as how he had left it yesterday. There's the small fort he had built for protection, and the piece of timber that he used as a weapon on the ground. Even the pebble is still there, sitting silently. Void of all life.

In a few steps he walks over to the grate, peering down to find it as cold and dark inside as before. He backs away, calming his nerves as he counts to three in his head. He can do this. 

"Merlin?" he calls, cringing at the tremble he hears in his voice. His father would have scolded him had he heard. 

"Arthur?" The boy's voice immediately replies back with enthusiasm. There's a few footsteps as he gets to his feet. "I-is it really you?" 

Hearing such joy and sadness in his words Arthur feels a stab of pain in his chest at ever doubting the boy, but still the lingering sense of danger dwells in the back of his mind. He sits down and sets the candle on the ground, pushing it close to the grate till a faint light seeps through the bars. With the help of the light he's able to see the small outline of a silhouette in the room. A silhouette of Merlin. From what he can make out the boy's small and has a mop of black - or perhaps dark brown - hair on his head. He isn't able to make out anything else. The rooms still far too dark, but at least now he knows what the boy looks like. At least a little bit. "Yes, it's me, I'm sorry I ran away," Arthur replies, his words sincere. 

There's a light chuckle from the grate, a broken one. One that sounds a little forced as though the boy is trying to suppress something. To hide something he wants no one, perhaps not even himself, to see. What that something is Arthur doesn't know.

There's a shuffling sound from below him and now he can see Merlin sitting against the wall underneath him, looking up at the ceiling presumably because he can't tell where the prince is. Now that he's closer Arthur can just barely make out bright, blue eyes and a wide smile that makes his heart skip a beat. "I thought I would never get to talk to you again. And um... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Papa always said that I shouldn't use magic when it isn't lesson time."

"Papa? I thought you said you're alone?"

Arthur's met with nothing but silence and when he looks through the grate again he finds Merlin's no longer smiling. His head is tilted downwards until the shadows are obscuring his face once again. "I am. Papa used to say that," he says in a quiet voice.

Arthur sits uncomfortably in his spot, having a question that he wants to ask, but knowing this probably wasn't the best time. Unfortunately, his curiosity won out. "Did your Papa know magic too?"

Merlin is quiet for a moment before looking back up at the prince. "Yes, he did. He was the best..."

"Was?"

"A bad man came and... um..." Merlin doesn't finish but Arthur can guess what he meant. His parents are dead.

Arthur doesn't quite know what to say. He understands how it must feel like having lost a parent himself but his situation was still different. Unlike Merlin, he had never met his mother before. Had never felt a mother's love and care so he didn't know what it was like to suddenly lose all of that. He supposes that it would be similar to what he'd feel if he lost his father. Nonetheless, he thought it was probably best he changes the subject. "Do you ever get to go outside?" Arthur decides to ask, and seeing how dark and dreary the room is he hopes that answer is yes.

"No. The door is locked. I can't leave."

The first thing he feels is pity for the boy. Having to stay cooped up inside all day? What sort of life was that? He needs to get out. Have some fun! But how? After pondering the question for a few minutes Arthur turns to the grate with enthusiasm. He grabs the bars and with a wide smile looks down at Merlin. "Do you want to go outside?"

Merlin's eyes widen and he gets to his feet, excited at the very question. "Of course! But... how? Do you know how to get me out?"

Arthur shakes his head. "No, but I have an idea! I'll be back tomorrow! Wait for me!" With that the prince hops up, grabs the candle and races from the room before Merlin can ask anymore questions.

-----

The following morning Arthur is up and out of bed before his nursemaid has even arrived - much to her surprise. He gobbles down breakfast quickly, hardly even stopping to chew his food, before he's suddenly out the door and into the hall with his nursemaid right behind. He weaves between the servants in the corridor, for once happy of his small stature as he finds his way to the courtyard. The area is already bustling with people and he can catch a few of the merchants and visiting farmers wave in his direction when they see him atop the stairs. He can already hear his nursemaid approaching from behind and without wasting another second he races towards the gate out of the city. 

He doesn't stray too far from the gate, only a short distance into the trees where his nursemaid wouldn't find him if she came to look. His father has drilled it into his head enough times the dangers of going out alone at his age and he is not willing to be lectured again. 

He's glad the sun is up this morning and that the sky is clear. It makes things much easier for him as he starts to search around the forest. He needs to bring something interesting, something that will remind Merlin of all the wondrous things outside. He searches around for awhile, not knowing what would be the best thing to bring. Should he bring some of the leaves? Or perhaps some of the herbs? No, none of those seem right. He needs something more. 

It takes him well over an hour but eventually a vibrant flower growing on a bush by the base of a tree catches his eye. He crouches down by the plant, examining the yellow petals that remind him rather vividly of those golden eyes that stared up at him from the darkness of the room. He picks them carefully, not wanting to cut himself on the thorns, before turning around and heading home, eager to show Merlin what he's found. He's careful to hide them as he walks back to his chambers, not wanting anyone to question him or, even worse, take them away. He carefully places them in the back of his wardrobe the moment he enters his chambers, knowing that he won't have time to visit Merlin again until at least later in the day. Almost the moment he shuts his wardrobe door his father walks in, eyeing him suspiciously. "Arthur," he says warningly with the nursemaid right behind him, "Mary says that you've been neglecting your studies lately. Is that true?"

Arthur turns to face his father, instinctively setting his shoulders back and fixing his posture to the way his father had taught him. "No, I haven't," he says.

"Then where were you this morning? You have lessons with Gaius in less then ten minutes."

"I... went out for a walk. And besides I came back on time!"

Uther growls, stepping in closer to his son until he's towering over him. "You better not have been out and playing with those children again."

Arthur shakes his head, "Of course not, father. I was just out for a walk."

Uther eyes his son for a moment longer before heaving a sigh and turning back around. "Hurry to Gaius. I don't want you to be late again. And please, next time at least let Mary know where you're going."

"Yes, father."

-----

Later in the evening, after his nursemaid had put him to bed and left, Arthur gets back up and grabs the flowers from his wardrobe. He lights one of the candles by his bedside then, taking it with him, creeps out of his chambers. He's careful to avoid the guards, knowing that no princely title would have them allow him to pass without question in the middle of the night. It takes longer than it normally would, but eventually he reaches the dusty closet again. 

There's a smile on his face as he pushes the door open, excited to show Merlin. He sets the candle down by the grate then peers through the bars. "Merlin? You said you can make things fly right?"

"Um... yeah but-" 

"Here! Fly it down. Be careful though, they're sharp." Arthur sticks his arm in between the bars, holding the roses in his hand for Merlin to see. He notices the boy look up at him with curiosity, but holds his hands out anyways and does what he's told. Arthur watches, mesmerized as his friends eyes flash gold, the colour so bright that he can see it clearly even through the darkness. He feels something tug at the flowers gently, so he lets go and can only watch with wide eyes as it gently drifts down to the palm of Merlin's hands.

"They're yellow roses," Arthur says with a grin, "I found it in the forest today! It's a bright gold like the sun so I thought you would like it."

Merlin holds one of the flowers up, twirling it between his fingers as he smiles. "Thank you, it's beautiful."

Arthur smiles proudly, feeling a sense of achievement at this small feat. "I asked my teacher about them and he said that yellow roses represent friendship and new beginning's. I think they mark this occasion really well!" 

Merlin stops spinning the plant and looks up at the light above him. "Friends? Y-you consider me a friend?" he asks hesitantly.

The prince stares down at him and for the first time their eyes meet. "Friends," he lets out a chuckle, "A prince and a warlock. How strange is that?"

Merlin laughs, "Strange like a prat and a unicorn," he replies with a wide smile.

-----

"And today," Arthur announces as he sticks his hands through the bars of the grate, "I brought this!" 

Again, as always, the item floats off his hand. It drifts down and into the room, seeking out the other boy in the gloom. The prince feels particularly exited today, rather proud of what he had managed to find. Thus far it has always been things he could find easily nearby in the Forest of Ascetir, but today he decided to venture just a little bit further and he managed to find a spectacle he thinks Merlin would be rather excited to see. He had found a squirrel! A live one! He's sure Merlin will be excited to see a living creature!

"Um... Arthur?" Merlin asks with a quiver in his voice once the object has reached his hands, "What is this? I-I think it's moving." 

"A squirrel!"

"You caught a squirrel?!" Merlin cries with a yelp. 

"Yeah! I thought you were tired of seeing plants all the time so I brought you an animal!"

"Take it back home!" Merlin says, sending the creature back up through the grate much to Arthur's displeasure. 

"Why? I brought it here for you!" 

"But it's only a baby. I'm sure it's mama and papa miss it... it probably misses its mama and papa too," Merlin says wistfully as the squirrel gently floats down on Arthur's palm.

The prince looks down at the little critter in his hands, carefully stroking the fur on its back, wondering how much of what Merlin said was about the squirrel or himself. "I'm sorry," he mutters, feeling bad for digging up bad memories. 

"It's fine," Merlin replies, "I'm fine. But could you please take the squirrel home?" 

Arthur nods before realizing that Merlin couldn't see him. "I will. But is there anything else you want me to bring. I can get you anything!" 

"No you don't-" 

"I said anything!" Arthur says stubbornly, "so tell me."

"Th-then a book. Can you get me a book?"

"A book?" Arthur asks with a laugh, "what do you want with those boring old things?"

"I get lonely waiting for you to come," Merlin says in a quiet voice. 

Again, the prince can feel his heart flutter in his chest at the words. Merlin missed him too. "Okay, then tomorrow I'll come as soon as I can!"

-----

After returning the squirrel back to its home the prince pounds his fists loudly against the door, not caring about the questioning stares he gained from the others in the hall. "Gaius!" he shouts, still hitting the door. "Gaius I want to ask you something!"

Finally, the door opens and an irritated old man emerges, staring down at the boy who now smiles innocently up at him. "What did you need my boy?" the physician asks, not hiding the annoyance in his voice. 

Arthur smiles at him and darts into the room, heading straight towards one of the many bookshelves. He starts pulling them out at random, hugging each one in his arms before Gaius walks over and takes the books away. "I need those!" Arthur cries, standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to reach them. 

Gaius raises an eyebrow, "You were never keen on reading before. What's changed your mind?"

"They're not for me! They're for Merlin!"

Gaius sighs, a little disappointed to hear that the prince isn't the one willing to study. "Merlin? Is that the friend from before?"

Arthur nods, "he says he wants to read so I'm bringing him some books."

Gaius smiles, glad to hear the prince has finally found a friend he can converse with. "And your friend wants books on..." he looks at one of the covers, "fish anatomy?"

"Um... he likes fish."

"Why don't you give him something he would enjoy," Gaius suggests, kneeling down to the prince's height. "what does he like?"

"He-" the prince stops, glancing around as though afraid someone will overhear him. 

"It's alright. No one will hear."

"He-he likes magic."

Gaius smiles then walks over to the bookshelf. He sets the ones Arthur had taken out back before heading towards one of the shelves atop the little loft. The prince watches as the physician digs through the shelf, pulling out a dusty book that appears to have never seen the light of day in years. The old man heads back down and hands the book to the prince. "It's a book on basic spells. Perhaps he'll find some pleasure in reading it," he says with a smile.

Arthur flips open the cover, skimming through the pages with a puzzled expression. He may not know what the book is saying, but he trusts Gaius when he says that Merlin might enjoy it. He hugs the book to his chest then with a grin runs to the door. "Thank you Gaius! I'm going to give it to him now!" 

With that he dashes off excitedly, humming to himself as he makes his way towards the little room. He wonders what Merlin will say when he gives the book to him.

Chapter Text

Arthur dashes into the small room, his footsteps echoing loudly as he sits down beside the grate, dropping the book on the ground and sending up a plume of dust. "Merlin!" he shouts into the abyss.

"You're here early," Merlin comments from down below.

Arthur grins then sticks his arm through the grate with the book and a lit candle in his hand. "I said I would come as soon as possible didn't I? Besides, I brought you a book! I know you'll love it!" he boasts with pride.

Like before there's a glow of gold from the room before the book and candle is gently tugged from the prince's grip. They hover down to the waiting hands of the boy below, the candle illuminating the path down. As the light drifts further into the darkness Arthur finds himself leaning closer to the grate, trying to see more of his friend below. What he sees is pale skin and short, dark hair. He sees bright blue eyes and ragged clothes. His first thought is that the boy is small. He has a lanky frame so his clothes seem to hang off his body and from what he can tell Merlin seems to be younger than himself. Seeing the frail boy sends a surge of protectiveness over the prince. He feels that it's his duty to protect this young warlock. To protect his friend. Isn't that what his father always said? That a prince's job was to protect his people?

"This is wonderful," Merlin says from below, sitting by the firelight as he flips through the pages. "they're all spells for magic! Not even my Papa had a book like this!"

Arthur smiles, again feeling proud of himself. "I borrowed it from my teacher. He said that it should be simple enough for you to understand. You can read right?"

"A little. My Papa taught me some."

"Then I can teach you whatever you don't know. You can ask me anything, okay?"

Merlin nods with a smile as he looks up at the prince above him. "Thank you."

-----

It's on the third month of the prince's daily excursions that he finally breaks his routine. He had woken up that morning with a high fever and of course no one in the entire castle was willing to let him walk out of his chambers. His father had sat by his bedside, seated on a chair by his bed with worry in his eyes. Arthur had wanted to leave of course, knowing that Merlin was waiting for him and that he had promised to deliver another book to him, but his father would never let him out of his sight and besides, even if his father wasn't there he was too weak to even make it across the room. And so, the prince had remained bed ridden for the entire week, unable to visit his friend whom he thought constantly about.

Now, when he's finally well enough to leave, the first thing the prince does is grab a candle and race out of his room with the book in his grasp. He reaches the closet in record time and pushes it open hastily, quickly making his way to the grate before kneeling to look through the bars. His heart almost stops when he looks inside because inside all he can see is nothing. Nothing but pitch black darkness. A chill runs down his spine at the sight. It's been three months now. Three months since he last saw this abyss. He almost forgot what it looked like. Forgot the shadows that seemed to crawl up the walls. He's afraid. Afraid of what has become of the boy that's trapped in this all encompassing darkness.

Arthur holds the light up, bringing it close to the grate until there's a faint glow cast throughout the room. He squints, trying to focus his eyes in the dark and he just manages to see a few toppled books and candles strewn across the ground. He holds the candle out further into the room, stretching as far as his arms wills go until he manages to spot a faint figure crouched in the opposite corner. Hope flutters in the prince's chest. "Merlin? Are you okay?" he asks.

There's no response.

"Merlin?" Arthur calls again, louder this time. He even shakes the bars a few times with his other hand, hoping that will get his attention. "Merlin? Did something happen?!"

Slowly, the boy in the corner looks up to the source of the noise. He freezes in place, appearing to have seen a ghost before he slowly gets to his feet, legs trembling as he walks closer to the glow of the candle. "Ar-thur?" he asks, voice raspy and broken.

The prince frowns, his brows furrowing as he starts to worry. What happened? "It's me," he says cautiously, "did something happen?"

Merlin suddenly dashes forward until he's directly under the grate. He looks up at him, tears in his eyes as he reaches a hand up, as though hoping to touch the prince above him. "I thought something happened to you. You didn't come for so long..." Merlin says, his hand seeming to grab at the air.

Arthur can feel the guilt swell in his chest at those words. He wants to reach a hand down as well. To grab that hand and pull his friend out of the darkness, but of course that couldn't happen. If it were that easy he would have done it long ago. "I'm sorry," Arthur says, "I was sick and couldn't come."

Merlin lets his hand drop, "Sick? Are you okay now?" he asks frantically, "you-" the words get stuck in the boy's throats and his lower lip quivers as he stares up at the prince. "You won't die?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

Merlin continues to stare up at him, as though he didn't believe those words. His hand now drops down, resting against the wall. He can see him start to claw at it slightly, as though hoping he could dig his way up to freedom. "You won't die. You won't die right?"

Arthur stares down, eyes growing sad as he looks at the desperate face of his friend below. Merlin's eyes seem glassy, like a thin film of fog has drifted down over them and now he can longer see what's in front of him. The boy's looking at him and yet he seems to not be as well. He seems to be looking somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Somewhere long ago.

Arthur sets the candle down on the floor then leans his forehead against the bars. He stares down at his friend. "Merlin, look at me."

The warlock doesn't pay attention. He continues to stare past the prince above him, scratching at the walls.

Arthur sits on the floor, going as close as he can to the boy. "They're gone Merlin. You're mama and papa are gone."

This gets him to stop. Merlin freezes and his eyes seem to finally clear. Though just slightly. "Mama? Papa?"

"They're gone. They aren't coming back and you know my mother's gone too. She-she's been gone for a long time. I always get sad when I see other people with their mothers but I always had father with me and he would make me happy then I wouldn't be sad anymore so..." Arthur looks down, knowing that he's rambling but still he makes sure Merlin is looking at him before smiling, "I'll make you happy too, then you won't be sad anymore."

Tears start to pour out of Merlin's eyes and he's quick to wipe them away. He looks back up at the prince, the mist clearing away and he seems to see Arthur again for the first time. "You won't leave me? You won't disappear again?" he asks in between sobs.

"I won't leave and next time I'll be sure to let you know. I'll stay by you forever, so please don't cry."

"Mama and Papa said the same thing once. But they left me," Merlin says quietly, the words barely audible.

"I won't leave you," Arthur repeats a second time, "I never will. If I ever do then you can come find me and drag me back to your side."

That seems to reassure the boy. He wipes at his eyes one last time before turning back up to Arthur with a beaming smile and the prince can safely say that it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

-----

"Merlin!" Arthur yells as he bursts through the door and into the closet. He drops down by the grate with a loud clatter as his sword hits the floor. He's panting and out of breath. Sweat gleans against his brow and his hair is messy from tearing off his helmet. There's a wide grin on the prince's face as he looks down into the grate, seeing his friend below with a number of candles lit and a pile of books beside him. Merlin still seems to be reading intently, not having heard Arthur enter. With a pout the prince shouts louder. "Merlin!"

There's a startled yelp and a clatter as the book drops out of the boy's hand and Merlin looks up at the grate in annoyance. "Don't startle me you prat!" He yells.

Arthur snickers and sticks his tongue out which Merlin responds to by throwing a book at the grate. The prince jolts back but laughs when the book drops back down to the ground. "You can't hit me dollophead!" He teases.

Merlin grumbles in irritation as he sits, muttering to himself about how he'll learn how to make a fireball one day and sear off all of Arthur's hair. The prince just laughs again then sends a beaming grin down. "Merlin, guess what happened today!"

"Did you get attacked by a squirrel again? I told you you shouldn't have caught that one two years ago. Now its family is seeking revenge."

"What? No! That's not what happened! And besides I took that squirrel home safe and sound!"

"Then did you break another of your papa's things?"

Arthur sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before starting to describe his entire adventure to the boy. He tells him about how his father had given him his first sword, how the weapon felt in his hand as he swung it through the air, and how his first sparring session had gone. He was beaten of course, this was his first ever lesson, but even that wasn't enough to put him to shame today. Today, he was becoming a man. Today, he was one step closer to becoming a knight of Camelot and he was proud.

"That's amazing..." Merlin says with awe, having listened attentively for the entire story, "Do you think I can try one day too?"

Arthur grins, "Of course you can! Why can't you?"

"Well..." Merlin says, looking around his little room, "I'm sort of stuck in here if you haven't noticed yet." For the first time in a long while the prince hears a sadness in the boy's voice. A fleeting desire that Merlin hides quickly with a small smile.

The little prince glances around the cell his friend is in. The room is dark still, but slightly brighter now with the candles he's brought for him. It's much more comfortable than before. He's brought his friend pillows, blankets, and books for him to keep around so at least he isn't in a barren room, but he can see why Merlin wants to leave. He would too. Strip away everything he's brought and there's only four stone walls and a small iron door. It's lonely. Terribly lonely.

He looks down at the boy staring up at him, seeing his thin frame, the tattered clothes. Now that he's thinking about it... how long has Merlin been down there? It's been about two years. That's for sure. But how long before they met? Months? Years? Why has he never asked? Guilt starts to weigh on the prince's heart. He was naive back then. Ignorant to his friends predicament. He's a prat, just like what Merlin always said. He should have been spending these past two years better. He should have been finding a way to save his friend.

"Merlin? What was your home like? I've told you about mine before, but I've never asked about yours."

There's silence for a moment and for a second Arthur's afraid he's said something wrong, but when he looks down he sees a smile on the warlock's face. One that somehow manages to be wistful, happy, and sad all at the same time. "I don't remember much," Merlin start as he picks at the loose dirt by his feet, "but I remember a few mountains that I could see a long ways away. I used to dream of going there. I think there were cows, a lot of fields and flowers, but the thing I'll always remember is the lake. I don't remember its name anymore but I remember going there a lot with my mama and papa. I hope to see it again one day."

Arthur leans against the wall, head cocked to the side as he listens. He tries to picture Merlin's home, imagining the things he described as best he can. It sounds like a wonderful home. A peaceful place that even he would love to stay at.

When the warlock finishes all the prince can think about is how much he wants to make Merlin's wish come true, so he reaches a hand out, grasping the bars of the grate and leaning in close. before saying, "One day, I promise to get you out of there. I'll find you and... and I'll bring you outside. I'll show you all those flowers and the whole castle. I can ask father to let you live with me, and if he won't let you then I'll go ask Gaius. Don't worry, I'll get you out of there." He sticks a hand through the grate, sticking his pinky out to the boy below, "I promise."

Merlin tilts his head at the gesture, raising an eyebrow. "What's that for?" he asks.

"It's a way to seal a promise," Arthur explains, waggling the finger, "we're supposed to link our pinkies together to make it official."

Merlin chuckles, "I think you're a little too far away."

The prince frowns, "Then we'll pretend. Come on, my arm is getting tired!"

With one last laugh Merlin gets to his feet, walking right under the grate and holding his hand up, pinky finger extended. He smiles. "It's a promise."

Chapter Text

"Is something the matter my lady?" Gwen asks with a whisper, peering around Morgana as she looks out from behind a pillar. 

"Shh, be quiet. He'll hear us!" Morgana says with a hiss at her new maid before turning her attention back onto the prince at the other end of the hall. 

Gwen raises an eyebrow, lowering her voice further before inquiring again innocently. "Why are you staring at his highness? Do you like him?"

Morgana turns around abruptly, face twisted in disgust at the mere thought of the boy. "Ew, of course not. Who would like that jerk of a prince?"

Gwen shrugs as she peers out from behind the pillar again. "He's kinda cute."

Morgana gives a disapproving look before gently flicking the younger girl's forehead, eliciting a muffled 'ow' from the maid. She turns her attention back to Arthur who has just started rummaging through the closet where the maids store the wash basins. "I'm telling you this because I like you, Gwen, Arthur is a stupid jerk. You're too good for him."

Gwen giggles, blushing slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. But then why are you staring at him?"

"Because isn't he acting suspicious? I've seen him doing this in lots of places already. I want to know why."

Gwen watches for a few minutes. "Maybe he lost something?"

"Arthur doesn't have anything precious."

"You don't think very highly of him."

"Of course not. He never admits I'm better than him in sword fighting even though I've beaten him countless times already. He's arrogant, selfish, and an idiot. Oh no, he's coming!" Morgana quickly shoves Gwen back against the pillar as Arthur walks past. Thankfully, he doesn't see them. 

She frowns at his back, making a split second decision, then jumps out from her hiding spot. "Arthur!" she shouts, arms crossed as she walks up to him. 

The prince jumps at the sound of her voice and turns, expression immediately morphing to one of annoyance as he sees Morgana standing behind him. "What do you want? I'm busy!" he says angrily.

"What were you doing over there?" she asks.

"I don't need to tell you."

"Then I'll tell Uther."

Arthur's eyes narrow, "you wouldn't."

She just smirks, knowing she's won. "You know I will."

Arthur grumbles under his breath before glaring at her. "I'm looking for something."

"Looking for what?"

"That's not your business. You wouldn't understand." He turns and starts walking down the hall. 

Morgana seethes at the answer. This is why she hated the stupid prince, acting all arrogant as though he knew everything. Knew things that she didn't know. But before she's able to interrogate him some more Arthur has already turned the corner and disappeared down the hall. She fumes, then grabs her maid's hand and pulls her along as they search for the prince again. 

-----

It's a week later before she finds him snooping around again and this time in one of the more secluded areas of the castle. She stares from around the corner, Gwen right behind her, and watches carefully as he enters another closet. This time though, he shuts the door behind him. 

Morgana waits, and waits, and waits. Yet, he never comes back out. By now both Morgana and Gwen are sitting on the floor, staring at the door and waiting for a prince they don't know will even return. "What's taking him so long?" Gwen complains, tugging at Morgana's sleeve.

"I don't know," she says truthfully, before coming out of her hiding spot, "maybe we should check."

She walks to the door and before she even reaches the handle she hears... voices. Two of them. One is distinctly Arthur's. She could recognize that voice anywhere by now. But the other... the other she can't put a name too. As far as she knows she's never heard it before. 

Slowly, she opens the door. Just a crack. Just enough for her to see inside. She looks into the room and is surprised to see Arthur with a wide smile on his face as he sits against the wall, talking to what appears to be nothing. There's no one else there. 

"Who's he talking to?" Gwen whispers, trying to look as well and managing to squeeze under Morgana thanks to her small stature.

"I can't tell..." she says before suddenly the other voice speaks again. Another boy.

"She's so annoying!' Arthur complains, crossing his arms. "Why can't she leave me alone?"

"Well," the other voice replies, "she might just be worried about you."

"I don't need her to worry about me! I can take care of myself," the prince says proudly, turning to look at a grate beside him. 

"Do I need to remind you that you hurt yourself with a boot before?" the other voice says with a chuckle. 

Arthur's face turns red before he bends down to peer into the grate. "Shut up, Merlin. I was only nine at the time!" 

"And now you're eleven. Not much of a difference."

Arthur's about to say more when suddenly the hinges creak. He freezes and before Morgana can even pull back he turns towards the door, eyes widening when he sees who's there. "Morgana? Gwen? What are you doing here? Get out!" he shouts, already trying to close the door on them.

Morgana though pushes back harder and, being two against one, manages to force the door back open. "That's my question! What are you doing here?"

Before Arthur can shout back another voice cuts in. "Is this the girl you were talking about? Morgana? Hello! I'm Merlin! Nice to meet-"

"Merlin, shut up! Now isn't the time!" Arthur shouts at the grate. 

The other boy, Merlin, doesn't seem fazed at the tone. "But I want to meet your other friends!"

"She's not my friend!" Arthur says with annoyance before he turns back on Morgana and Gwen. "Please, leave."

Morgana glances towards the grate then crosses her arms over her chest. "Who's down there? I knew you were crazy but I didn't think you would be crazy enough to lock someone up!"

Arthur just rolls his eyes. "I didn't lock someone up."

"Tell me who he is!" 

Arthur crosses his arms as well and turns his back on her. "No."

"Then I'm telling Uther!"

Immediately, he tenses and again she thinks she has won, but instead he looks to her, eyes dangerous and for once Morgana can see exactly why Arthur is Uther's son. "You say one word-"

"And you'll what?" she mocks, hiding her fear, "you'll hurt me? You'll kill me? I know you can't do it." Before she's even finished her sentence she can see in his eyes that this time... this time perhaps she's gone too far with her nosiness. She swallows as Arthur backs her up against the wall, eyes piercing.

"Um... please stop fighting," Gwen says helplessly, trying to separate the two to no avail. 

"Leave. Both of you."

Then, without any physical contact Arthur is yanked away, as though pulled by an invisible force. He falls flat against his back, groaning as he sits up and turns to the grate again. "Merlin! Why did you do that!" he shouts.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," Merlin replies, "I'm happy you care but don't hurt someone because of me."

Arthur's gaze softens almost instantly. "I'm sorry."

"Shouldn't you say that to your friend? Mor-Morgana?" 

Arthur turns rather grudgingly towards the girl before muttering a quiet 'sorry' under his breath. The first thought that Morgana has is that whoever this Merlin boy is; she likes him. Anyone that can get the childish prince to say the words 'I'm sorry' is someone she wants to keep around, but that thought is soon overshadowed by the realization that Arthur's friend had just used magic. 

Magic.

Arthur's. Friend. Used. Magic. And he didn't care. 

Now those were four words she never thought she would ever use together. She glances towards Gwen, who seems to have come to the same conclusion and is now hiding behind her in slight fear of the grate. Morgana though, not being one to run and hide, confronts the prince. "Arthur, you do realize what your father is going to say if he finds out about this."

Arthur stiffens and quickly sends a glance towards the grate before grabbing Morgana and Gwen by their wrists and pulling them out into the hall. He shuts the door behind them, looking slightly worried before he turns back to face the two girls. "I know. And that's why he doesn't have to find out."

"But he's a sorcerer," Gwen squeaks worriedly, "doesn't that mean he's... b-bad?"

Arthur frowns at the words. "No, Merlin isn't like that. He's good."

Morgana puts her hands on her hips. "You know you need to tell Uther. This is dangerous!"

Arthur turns on her and scowls. "I'm not telling father!" he yells, a little too loud.

"If you aren't going to tell him then I will!" she declares, shooting him her fiercest gaze. 

Arthur's expression drops, suddenly turning desperate and for the first time she sees the mighty prince beg. "Please, Morgana. Please, don't tell father. I'll do anything you want just do this one favour for me."

Morgana takes a step back, hesitant on what to do. She's never seen Arthur acting like this before. Never seen that boy who's always seated on his high horse suddenly tumble down and resort to begging. And begging for what? A sorcerer of all things? This scenario is probably the last thing she ever would have dreamed of seeing Arthur in. 

She glances towards the closed door, imaging the grate that's on the other side and the boy that's waiting down there. Not realizing that his fate was in her hands. Does she have that right? Does she have that right to toy with a person's life in such a way? Hasn't she seen Uther do this countless times through her bedroom window. Seen him strip away the life and dignity of a sorcerer as he burns them at the stake. How many times has she run towards Gaius, asking him for sleeping draughts to rid the nightmares that plague her night after night of those horrendous deeds? So what gives her the right to do the same? 

She looks to Arthur, seeing the pleading look on his face. The sadness in his eyes. The terror that she'll take away the only person she's ever seen him truly care about. As much as she hates to admit it, she cares for the stupid prince and she knows that he'll never speak to her again if she goes through with her threat. And surprisingly that's something she never wants to happen. 

"Arthur, what is it that you don't wish to tell me?"

All three of the children stiffen at the sound of the voice. Morgana turns slowly, only to find the king of Camelot towering over them, a questioning look on his face. "Arthur," he says, "what were you yelling about earlier?"

Arthur hangs his head as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, trying to find the words. To find an excuse. "Um... that's... uh..."

Uther sighs then turns to Morgana. "What were you two talking about? What is Arthur hiding from me?" 

Morgana hesitates and risks a glance towards Arthur. She can see the hope leave his eyes, see the desperation in his expression as he tries to find a way out of the situation. He doesn't trust her. He thinks she'll tell him and she doesn't blame him for it.

"Arthur accidentally broke one of the swords when he was training," Morgana says, sending the prince a quick wink and a smirk before continuing, "he wasn't going to tell you because he thinks you won't think he's a good knight."

Uther stares for a moment before letting out a laugh then pats his son on the head, ruffling his hair a little. "Was that all? That's nothing to worry about. We can always get a new one. Now you three better hurry. It's almost time for bed."

With that Uther turns and walks away, heading in the direction of his office to work. When Morgana turns back to Arthur she's tackled by a hug. "Thank you," he says, "thank you so much."

Morgana looks to Gwen, unsure of what to do. The maid only snickers and mimics hugging him back so, following her advice, she wraps her arms around the boy and gently pats him on the back. "You owe me," she mutters.

-----

When the next day finally arrives Arthur wakes to find himself still alive and with no call from his father to go and see him. He gives himself a pinch, wondering if the entire thing had been a dream, but sure enough he's still awake. Morgana really didn't sell him out to his father. 

The prince climbs out of bed cheerfully, a gentle skip in his step as he heads off to practise. He knows his happiness is clearly showing on his face as quite a few of the other squires give him strange looks whenever he passes, but for once he doesn't care about his image. He's happy. Happy that Merlin won't be taken away from him as every other friend he's ever found has. 

He really should do something for Morgana in thanks. She saved Merlin's life, and probably his own as well, so the least he can do is repay her in one way or another. Perhaps he should buy something for her. A new dress or necklace maybe? Girls like those sorts of things right?

By the time he's able to visit Merlin it's already late in the day. He's rather excited, giddy to tell Merlin that perhaps Morgana isn't as bad as he thought she was. He reaches the closet and is just about to open the door when he hears voices on the other side. Girls. Giggling girls. 

"Arthur did that?" one of the girls, clearly Morgana, asks with a laugh.

"Yup, tripped and got himself stuck in that barrel. I could hardly pull him out even with magic!" Another voice, clearly Merlin's, says.

"Does he come here everyday?" This time it's Gwen that asks the question.

"Yeah, keeps me company," Merlin replies and that's when Arthur throws open the door. "Is that Arthur?" he hears Merlin ask, "welcome back!"

"Why are you two here?" he demands, pointing a finger at both Morgana and her maid. 

Gwen shuffles to hide behind Morgana, still rather afraid of the prince, but Morgana simply sends him her usual smirk. "Visiting Merlin. Do you have a problem with that?"

Yes, yes he did have a problem with it. A very big problem at that. Merlin's his best friend and he does not want him to be taken away. "Of course there is! He's my friend!" he shouts, stamping his feet. 

"Aw, well I'm sorry Merlin but the big bad prince won't less us talk with you," she says with a fake pout as she gets up, bringing Gwen with her. "I suppose we won't be able to see each other anymore."

"Arthur!" Merlin says, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "why can't they stay? They're nice!"

Now it's Arthur's turn to put on a pout, "because..."

"Because what?"

The blond looks around and can catch the gaze of everyone in the room on him. Gwen's staring at him curiously while Morgana gives him the smirk that seems to always make him irritated. What does he say? Because is all honesty he can't exactly give a reason himself. Why doesn't he want Morgana and Gwen to be here? Shouldn't he be happy? Happy that Merlin has managed to find more friends? Yet no matter how much he tries all he can feel is a deep pit of... something in his chest. Something that tells him he doesn't want Morgana, Gwen, or anyone else for that matter in here but him. This is his spot. His and Merlin's alone. But he can't exactly say that. Not without being laughed at and seeming like a selfish prat. 

Morgana though can apparently see right through him. "Oh, don't worry too much about it Merlin," she says before sending Arthur a wink, "His royal highness is just jealous."

Gwen giggles behind her, apparently having caught on as well, while Morgana walks out of the room with a smile on her face as she watches the prince's face flush a bright red. Gwen walks up beside him, whispering a quiet good luck before dashing out of the room after her master. 

Arthur stands still, staring at the closed door with a dumbfounded expression on his face. His heart is racing in his chest and his cheeks are still red from either embarrassment or something else. He is not in love. There is no way. Morgana is just playing with him. He's not jealous. 

"Arthur?" Merlin calls, instantly shaking him from his thoughts, "are you still there?"

The prince walks over to his usual spot by the grate then crouches down, looking through the bars to see the boy still down there, staring up at him. The second their eyes lock a smile spreads across Merlin's face and again the prince's heart skips a beat. 

Maybe. Just maybe. He is a little bit, a tiny bit, in love. 

Chapter Text

Arthur slumps against the wall, sliding his back down the stone until his butt hits the floor. He lets out a tired groan as he turns his head towards the grate where Merlin lives, catching a glimpse of the boy below reading as usual. He holds another book through the bars and its gently tugged from his grip, drifting down to where his friend sits without the boy so much as looking up. Merlin's really improved these past three years.

"Did your father work you too hard again?" he hears Merlin ask, having closed the book he was reading in favour of the new one.

Arthur just groans, slumping down even lower against the wall until his back is on the floor. "My arms are sore and my head hurts. Sir Galahad doesn't hold back even against a child," he complains.

"You said you wanted to be the best," Merlin reminds him as he starts flipping through the book, "it's expected that it'll be hard."

Arthur rolls over, turning onto his side. He peers through the bars, feeling that each time he looks the room seems to shrink, growing smaller and smaller. Trapping the boy in further. It's been a year now since he made his promise. A year and still he hasn't made any progress. He's searched the castle high and low, wandering into every room in the citadel even if his father had forbidden him from entering. Every nook and cranny has been throughly examined and yet there's not a single entrance to that room in sight. There have been numerous times where he's almost given up. But each time he heads back to the grate he finds his friend smiling at him and there he vows to get him out all over again. Today too. Today he vows that he'll find a way to save his friend.

"Merlin, you mentioned before that someone dropped off food and water for you every morning right?"

The warlock looks up, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah? And?"

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Merlin still seems confused but he answers anyways, "Well, I don't know much. I've honestly never seen them before. They just slip the food through this little panel opening on the door. They never say anything, never do anything else. Just drops off my meals. Though they do bring in new clothes for me. Once every half a year I think? They're never really nice clothes, but they're better than nothing." He lifts his arms up, showing the prince the rather uncomfortable looking tunic. 

Arthur frowns, "I'll get you something, but are you sure there's nothing else? Not any other hints or..."

Merlin thinks for a moment, "Sorry, there's nothing."

Arthur sighs, slouching back against the wall. Well there goes his one lead. He was hoping he could get something more out of the boy. Something that would help him locate this mysterious caretaker, but of course it couldn't be that easy. If it were he would have found Merlin by now. 

"Arthur?"

The prince rolls closer to the grate. "Did you need something?" he asks.

"What is this?" Merlin asks, walking closer to the grate and holding the book open to a page with the drawing of a butterfly.

Arthur squints, focusing his gaze on the drawing. "That? It's called a butterfly."

Merlin turns the book back around, staring with a look of awe at the critter on the page. "Butterfly? Is it food?"

Arthur laughs, "No you idiot. It's a bug. It flies around near the flowers. They usually come in all sorts of colours."

"Then why is it called a butterfly? What does it have to do with butter?"Merlin continues to ask, now turning the book upside down as though that would somehow help him answer the question.

"Because... because I don't know. They just are."

"I want to see one," Merlin suddenly says as he sets the book on the ground, "They look pretty."

The prince frowns, "I'm not catching one for you. The last time I caught a living creature you got mad at me."

Merlin chuckles, remembering the squirrel as he picks up another book from the stack beside him. "I'm not asking you to. Because I'm going to make one!" he exclaims proudly as he starts to flip through the book.

Arthur stares down at the boy in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

"There's a spell in one of the books you gave me that shows how to do it. I want to try. Can you tell me if it looks right?"

Arthur nods, then shuffles closer to the bars in hopes of getting a better look. Merlin smiles up at him, then, setting the spell book in his lap, reads off the incantation. His eyes glow gold and even now, having seen it almost everyday for three years, Arthur still finds himself captivated by those eyes. Finds himself staring for just a little too long each time.

Merlin frowns when nothing happens and so tries again. He cups his hands together, whispering the words once more and this time, when he unclasps his hands, there's a small critter in his palm. There's a wide grin on the warlock's face as he looks up at the prince, proud and happy as he releases the insect up into the sky. The butterfly flutters weakly up towards the grate, seeming to be unbalanced as it flies up towards the prince. Arthur holds out a finger, letting it land as he examines the insect. From far away it had looked somewhat like a butterfly, but now that he's up close he can see that it's almost nothing like the real thing. The wing shape looks crooked, hence the poor flying, and the colour is an ash grey. The creature looks sickly, and within a few seconds of landing it poofs away in a wisp of smoke.

"It was pretty good for a first attempt," Arthur reassures with a fake smile.

Merlin grumbles under his breath, able to detect the lie, then quickly turns his attention back on the book. He scans the words again before making another attempt. And another. And another. Each time the butterfly flutters up to the prince he finds it looking only slightly better than before. He tries his best to help, trying to describe an actual butterfly to him as best he can, but still the creature just never looks right.

"I'm sure you'll get it eventually," Arthur says, looking through the grate, "like you said, you just have to work hard."

Merlin puffs out his cheeks in frustration, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at the book in his lap, not responding.

The prince frowns down at him, annoyed that Merlin's attention is being taken by something else. He looks around the dusty closet, finding a pillow he had brought once and throws it down at the boy, managing to hit him straight in the face. "Mer-lin!" he shouts, dragging out each syllable of the name, "pay attention to me!" He starts to kick his legs, acting like a child throwing a tantrum.

Merlin glares at him as he hugs the pillow to his chest, clearly even more annoyed now than before. "Don't your subjects already give you enough attention?"

Arthur frowns with his arms crossed over his chest. "They aren't the same. I want your attention!" The second the words are out of his mouth Arthur regrets them. He blushes a bright red and quickly buries his head in his hands, trying to hide his fluster.

"Why do you want my attention?" Merlin asks, the teasing tone gone from his voice as its replaced with genuine curiosity. 

Arthur peeks through his fingers, face growing even redder as he mumbles, "because... it's fun to talk to you. And I'm always sad when I'm not with you."

The prince risks a glance through the grate and manages to catch the boy blushing a little now with a goofy smile on his face as though he had just heard the best thing in the world. With a smile himself Arthur starts to wonder how he can recreate that smile again tomorrow.

-----

Arthur glances around excitedly, swivelling his head in every direction as he stares in amazement at the bustling town around him. Everything seems like a whole new world. The tavern, the inn, the market, even something as simple as the stables, makes the young prince giddy with excitement. He's never been to Mercia before and based off the things his father had told him he always assumed it was a poor kingdom, but as he stares at all the people that pass and the buildings that line the sides of the path its clear now that his father was wrong.

Despite his inner joy he keeps the excitement to himself, not daring to show his eagerness to explore while his father is riding only a short distance in front of him. He's supposed to act like an adult. Like the Prince of Camelot, not some child. He keeps his back straight as his horse follows behind that of his father's and the King of Mercia. He needs to look regal. This is his first official visit to a neighbouring kingdom after all. He needs to be on his best behaviour.

It's not until the next day that the prince is allowed to head out, with one of the knights of course, into the town to explore. He's practically jumping with energy the entire time, dashing all about whenever something catches his eye, asking all sorts of questions to the locals. It's not that he truly cares about the kingdom or that he's curious about its history. It's just that he wants to find something interesting to tell Merlin when he goes back home. 

"Sire," the knight, Sir Leon, says, "should we not head back now? Your father said to be back before dinner."

"I know, I know," Arthur says, still looking around, "I'll go back soon. I just want to go see one more place."

Leon sighs, but nods. "Alright, but after this we have to go back."

Arthur grins and hurries off rather happy that Sir Leon is the guard his father assigned him. He knows the knight well as they're close in age, though Leon is older, and they often train together during practise. At least they did before Leon became a knight a few weeks ago. Now he's usually too busy. But still he's happy to be able to explore the town with the knight as he is one of the few people he would consider his friend.

Arthur stops by the market, staring at the numerous stalls in wonder as he wanders between the rows. A few of the shopkeepers who aren't already busy with guests send him warm smiles, trying to wave him over with offers of fine goods and other wares. He brushes most aside, not finding anything of interest, though he admits there are a few that he can't help but walk over and examine. 

"We should get going now sire," Leon says, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "You're father is waiting."

Arthur frowns, giving one last scan of the place before sighing. There really is nothing here. he turns, about to leave when something catches his eye. He stops, dashing over to the store and stopping in front of the stall. The man at the store smiles at him kindly, apparently noticing the eagerness in the boy's eyes. "Did you see something you like?" The merchant asks, gesturing down at the cloths on the table. 

Arthur's eyes trail towards a bright, red cloth on the table. He picks at the fabric, feeling it between his fingers. It's soft and comfortable, something that even he wouldn't mind wearing. The vibrant red would match well with Merlin. 

"You interested lad?" the merchant asks with a smirk.

Arthur grins back then picks up the cloth, "How much?"

-----

Arthur whistles happily to himself as he makes his way through the foreign castle, excited now for the trip home. He peers at the package in his hand, feeling that sense of pride he always gets when he finds something wonderful to give to the warlock. He sees Leon give him a strange look as they walk down the corridor, but he pays him no mind. Let the man think what he wants. 

"Arthur!" Gwen calls, rushing over the second she spots him. "There you are! I've been searching all over for you!" she says quickly. 

"I'm sorry, Gwen," Leon says apologetically, "I tried to bring him as fast as I can."

Gwen sends the knight a forgiving smile, "It's not your fault. Arthur's just too slow. Are you trying to get me into trouble?"

Arthur just shrugs as he keeps walking, "Why would you get in trouble? You're not my caretaker."

Gwen sighs, pushing at his back to hurry him along. "I am during this trip. Mary couldn't make it."

Honestly, he's rather relived to hear that his usual nursemaid couldn't make it. That women's shrill voice is something he does not want to hear everyday. Some much needed distance is rather refreshing. But still he can't help but wonder why. "How come?" he asks, confused.

"She has other duties in the castle besides taking care of you. Now hurry up. We have to get going."

Gwen is quick to usher him into his room, ordering him to change before leaving to help Morgana with her dress. The prince quickly hides the cloth in one of his satchels before throwing on the clothes his father had prepared for him the previous day.

The dinner itself is nice enough. The food tastes great and he didn't need to do much aside from answering simple questions while nodding his head and smiling. His father does most of the talking and he's content with just sitting aside and eating when the pair of kings enter another topic. 

"Well, I must say you have a wonderful son Pendragon," Lord Bayard says with a sip of his goblet. 

"Of course, only the best can be the heir to the throne of Camelot." Uther replies with a smile. 

"Indeed, and a wonderful prince deserves a wonderful wife."

Arthur almost drops his spoon at the words. He looks up, staring at the king in astonishment. Those words are hardly subtle and he's not that big of an idiot to not realize what the other king is implying. His eyes drift over to Lord Bayard's daughter, a blonde girl only a little younger than him. She catches his stare and gives a rather uncomfortable smile. 

-----

"So Prince Arthur," the girl, who he recently learned was named Evelyn, says as she leans closer to him, "I hear you're almost a knight? It must be difficult." 

Arthur slowly inches away knowing full well what both their father's are hoping for. Why does he need to think about marriage already? He's only fourteen! He has plenty of time to look for a queen. 

'Or king' A part of him thinks as he stares at the girl in front of him. Another king sounds like a better idea. 

"Um, yeah," Arthur replies, trying to convey his disinterest, "It's quite difficult."

Evelyn looks a little unsure, but moves in closer, batting her lashes at him in hopes of winning him over. All Arthur can wonder though is whether or not she's got something stuck in her eyes. "Have you explored the town yet? I can show you around," she says, now clinging onto his arm. 

This time Arthur gets to his feet, turning to walk away. "It's alright. I've already seen it."

The princess sighs, clearly tired of it all, but still she gets up anyways, following after him as she continues to ask him questions. Arthur though ignores most of them, hoping that his clear disinterest will eventually reach their father's ears and they'll both give up. But of course nothing is ever so simple. For the rest of the week she continues to pester him, following him around much to both of their annoyances. Though the prince has to admit she's a nice girl. Whenever they aren't under the scrutinizing stares of their father's she's a delight to talk to, especially compared to Morgana. 

The night before their departure Evelyn appears at his door, looking down a little awkwardly as she waits for him to let her in. He sighs, tired and weary but knows he'll get an ear full from his father if he leaves her out in the hall. So, reluctantly, he holds the door open for her and invites her in. 

She sits quietly on a chair, not saying a word as they stare across the table at one another. It takes another five minutes before she speaks. "I'm sorry," she says, looking down shyly, "father ordered me to come here."

Arthur expected as much, knowing how desperately both his own father and King Bayard would love to have them marry. "It's alright. I know what father's can be like."

They soon fall back into silence with no sound other than the soft crackle of the flame in the fire pit. After another few minutes of uncomfortable silence Evelyn decides to engage in some small talk. "Um..." she starts, "I heard from the Lady Morgana that you have someone you're already in love with. This must be hard for you."

Arthur immediately tenses at the words. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat with a slight scowl on his face. "I don't. She's just saying whatever pleases her."

The princess raises an eyebrow, apparently not believing his words. "You don't? I highly doubt it."

Arthur glares at her stubbornly. "It's the truth, whether you believe it or not."

The girl giggles then leans forward on her seat expectantly, "Well then, let's say that you don't have anyone in mind. What would you look for in a person?"

"Uh... I don't know. Someone nice?"

Evelyn seems displeased with the answer. She purses her lips, "There has to be something. Here, I'll ask a question and you answer the first thing that comes to your head. Alright? Now, what hair colour?"

"Something dark."

"Eye colour?"

"Blue."

"Personality?"

"Cheerful and able to make me smile."

"Name?"

"Merl-" He catches himself, clamping his hands over his mouth as he quickly looks away. Why did Merlin's name come out? Now that he thinks about it, why did Merlin appear in his mind when he thinks of his ideal person? He flushes red with embarrassment, hoping that Evelyn hadn't heard anything. 

Unfortunately for the prince, she does. An amused smile crosses her face as she leans over the table. "I didn't catch that. What was the name? Mer- something?"

Arthur blushes even brighter and turns his back to the princess. Never mind what he thought before. She's just like Morgana. He keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to answer, but that only prompts the princess to become even more curious. She gets to her feet, walking over to his chair and standing right in front of him. "Come on, who is it? Who are you thinking of? I won't tell."

Arthur looks down at the floor shyly before muttering, "Merlin. His name is Merlin."

Evelyn grins then seats herself back down on her chair, looking proud. "And you said you aren't in love."

-----

Arthur stares through the grate, keeping as quiet as possible as he peers past the bars. The room is relatively dark, the candles having been snuffed out for the night. There was still one lit though, one right beside the sleeping warlock's head. 

The prince stares at the dozing figure, seeing the boy's chest rise and fall as he leans against the wall underneath the grate. He must have fallen asleep waiting for him to return from his trip. Merlin seems so at peace. So ethereal in the soft candle light. Arthur feels the itch to drop down into the cell himself. To drop down and curl up beside Merlin and hold him until the night is over. But of course that can't happen. Not yet at least. 

Arthur sits down by the grate, leaning his head against the wall with the red cloth on his lap. He's not in the mood to return to his room. Not tonight. Tonight, he wants to stay here. Stay with Merlin. He turns his head, his eyes seeking out the boy on their own accord as he whispers with a smile. 

"I love you."

Chapter Text

Merlin smiles to himself, eyes shut as he sways to the music. He hums a little with the tune, pretending that he's there standing amongst those noblemen and women. Pretending that he's there with Arthur as his father brings the ceremonial sword down upon his shoulder. The warlock smiles looking up at the ceiling as though he can see through the rock and up into the throne room wherever it may be. 

He wonders if it's strange to feel proud. To feel pride in his friend's achievement. He knows best how hard Arthur's worked for this day and he wouldn't want anything more than to be able to go up there to the castle just to be there to see him. But he can't.

Merlin sighs at the thought, the music no longer as soothing as before. He gets to his feet, stretching his arms in the air as he starts to pace the cell, his stomach rumbling. He looks to the door, wondering where the caretaker was. They normally would deliver his meal early in the morning, yet it's already the afternoon and they're still not here. Perhaps even they are busy with Arthur's knighting ceremony?

The warlock slumps back down against the wall, looking up at the light that filters through the grate, half expecting Arthur's head to poke out from between the bars despite knowing that the prince will probably not come today. There's a feast after the knighting ceremony. He won't have time for him. 

"Merlin?" A voice calls, as someone enters the room. 

The warlock sits up, "Gwen? Aren't you watching Arthur's knighting ceremony?"

The maid settles down in front of the grate, smiling down at him. "It's not exactly open to servants," she says a little sadly, "So I thought I'd keep you company before the feast starts."

Merlin frowns, sad to hear that Gwen can't attend, but also a little happy that at least there's someone with him. Arthur's gotten busier now that he's older as his father takes him out on various trips and assignments more often. He has to admit he's gotten lonely recently, but at least Morgana and Gwen try their best to come visit him whenever Arthur can't. "Thank you."

Gwen smiles and the two chat for awhile, talking about all sorts of things from Gwen's brother, Elyan, to Morgana and Arthur's bantering. They laugh and enjoy themselves as much as they can before the feast begins. 

It's late afternoon before Gwen gets to her feet, stretching her arms in the air before turning towards the door with a farewell. Merlin's sad to see her go, but knows that he can't keep her from her duties and so doesn't complain.

When the door shuts behind her Merlin slumps down lower against the wall, suddenly thrust back into the reality of that cold room. He feels lonely. So utterly lonely. Almost instinctively he reaches up to the cloth tied around his neck, to the neckerchief that Arthur had given him a year ago. He's found much comfort in it this last year. 

He looks around, wondering what he could do until it's late enough to head to sleep. After searching around for a few moments he picks up one of his books from off the ground. He flips to one of the pages he's marked with the yellow rose Arthur had given him and starts to study the image on the page. The image of a butterfly. 

It's been years now since he first attempted to make the insect but still he can't get it looking right. Arthur's said he's improved, but it's still not perfect. 

He holds his palms out in front of him, focusing all his magic towards the centre of his cupped hands as he chants. There's a glow of blue, then a ticklish feeling on his palm as the creature shifts in his hands. Merlin smiles at the little butterfly, proud of the slight improvements he's made. He watches it flutter into the air, circling around the room for a few minutes before it leaves through the grate. 

Merlin smiles, wondering where it's fluttering off too. Maybe it'll go see Arthur for him. 

A few minutes later the slot opens and his meal of bread and water drops in. Merlin looks to the door, "Thank you," he calls, but no one answers. There's only the sound of receding footsteps. 

-----

Arthur yawns, rubbing at his eyes while Mary hovers around him in a panic as she arranges his clothes. He's been up since first light preparing for his knighting ceremony and honestly he feels that all it's done is make him look more unpresentable. The lack of sleep has bound to put bags under his eyes and make them appear bloodshot, but apparently no one seems to care all that much. At least his clothes looked fine. 

Mary clasps the red cape around him, making sure it was orderly and neat before stepping back to admire her work. "Perfect. Oh you look so handsome!" she coos with a smile, "I can hardly believe that little prince who used to run around the palace is becoming a knight!" 

Arthur gives her a smile, having grown rather fond of his caretaker after she's had to put up with him for seven years. He's truly surprised she hasn't left yet. Most would have after the first few months. "I can hardly believe it myself," he says as he checks himself in the mirror, "I'm sorry to force you up so early in the morning."

Mary just giggles, "Oh no. That's alright. I'm usually up at this time already. Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Then I apologize for taking the time from your other duties."

She smiles at him, "That's alright," she says before glancing down at the floor a little sadly, "they can wait. Are you nervous for today?"

Arthur shifts in his spot because he did feel nervous today. But nervous for a different reason. "I suppose. I'm afraid I'll make a mistake."

Mary smiles at him reassuringly, "You'll be just fine. Now come on, let's get going."

She leads him out of the room before allowing the guards to take her place as they lead him towards the throne room. He stops once he reaches the large double doors. They bear down on him, staring imposingly as they wait. Arthur swallows the lump in his throat, the nervousness hitting him now that he can hear the quiet chatters of the people on the other side. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, trying to rid himself of the unease. 

After a few minutes the voices on the other side cease and the noise is replaced by the sound of drums. It's time. 

The two guards that flank him open the door, revealing the large throne room that has been decorated from top to bottom solely for him. Rows upon rows of people line the sides, all clapping enthusiastically as he makes his way down the aisle. 

He approaches his father before kneeling by the king's feet, bowing his head while he swears his oath. Uther smiles down at him as he finally knights him. 

When he rises and turns to the crowd he finds everyone cheering his name. He smiles at the crowd but turns his gaze towards where his friends stand. There's Gaius with Geoffrey, both looking proud of their student. Mary stands a little off to the side with what looks like tears in her eyes. Then there's Morgana who sends him a playful smirk. Leon is on the opposite side with the other knights, giving him a nod and a smile in recognition. 

He's happy to see them all, truly he is. But still there's a pang of hurt in his chest when the one person he wants to see is no where to be found. 

As the people start to file out of the room and into the dining hall he catches something out of the corner of his eye. Something that appears to glow a bright blue. Arthur turns in it's direction and smiles because there, fluttering in the middle of the throne room, is a blue butterfly. 

-----

Merlin stares up at the ceiling, feeling his stomach rumble as the smell of delicious food wafts down into his cell. He can smell chicken, fresh bread, and various spices, all of which makes him grow hungrier as he thinks of the platters of food. He hasn't had anything besides cold bread for awhile now. Maybe Arthur will sneak him something tomorrow? He usually does after a feast, but then again he's probably busy celebrating. He wouldn't remember someone like him during such an important feast. 

The warlock sighs, staring down at the floor with a frown at the thought in his head. He shouldn't keep pestering Arthur. He's a knight now and a royal prince as well. Eventually, he's not going to be able to waste time with a warlock trapped in a cell. He'll have more important things to do. More people to protect. He'll forget about him soon.

Merlin sniffles, rubbing the tears from his eyes before they've even had the chance to fall. He's not going to cry. He'll support Arthur. No matter what happens. He'll be there for him, whether the prince knows it or not. 

Boisterous laughter filters down into the cell, making the warlock look back up in wonder. What's Arthur doing right now? Is he talking with his father? Or perhaps sharing a drink with Morgana? Maybe he's with his fellow knights right now. Having a drink or two as they laugh together with women surrounding them. 

For some reason that thought stabs right through the warlock's heart. He can feel his magic stir within him. Feel his power seeping out, ready to hunt whomever may get a little too close to his prince. Books, candles, pillows, everything around him floats off the ground. They respond to his anger, to his irritation, to his jealousy. But, before his magic has the chance to lash out he quickly reels it in. The objects drop back to the floor, extinguishing the candles and plunging the room into darkness as they land with a clatter. His father would have been angry with him if he saw. 

Merlin sighs, leaning back against one of the pillows Arthur had brought him and, with a wave of his hand, puts everything back into place. The warlock sighs, turning onto his side before closing his eyes, wondering why his heart beat frantically in his chest whenever he thought of that prat. 

The moon is already up high in the sky when the door to the closet suddenly creaks open. Merlin wakes, wondering who it could be as he sits up, stretching his arms in the air and yawning. He rubs at his eyes before they turn a bright gold and the candles in the room spark to life, the flame casting flickering shadows across the walls. He gets to his feet, walking towards the grate sluggishly as he squints into the darkness above him. 

"Arthur?" he calls, silently hoping that it was the prince who was there while also doubting it. 

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Arthur says as his head appears next to the grate with a candle. Merlin's heart skips a beat at the sight of the prince. 

"No, was still awake," he says with a smile, "Did you need something?"

Arthur looks away shyly, his eyes seeming to dart around the room as he chooses his words. "Um, not really. I didn't need anything I just..." he trails off, chewing on his lower lip as once again he ponders his words. He runs a hand through his hair, the situation apparently frustrating him. 

"Just what?" Merlin asks. 

Arthur looks down at him then almost immediately flushes a bright red. He quickly turns away, hiding his face in the shadows as he gingerly reaches through the bars, holding something out to the warlock below. 

Merlin stares at the object in the prince's hand, not quite able to make it out from this distance. He glances towards Arthur, curious as to what it is before he wills his magic to bring the object down. Once it's halfway to him Merlin can finally see what it is. It's another book. 

He raises an eyebrow as he plucks it out of the air, wondering why Arthur's acting in such a strange way just to give him another book. That's when he notices something sticking out from between the pages. It's a flower. A bright red flower. 

Merlin reaches out, touching the petals and feeling it's softness under his fingers. The plant is in full bloom, the colour vibrant and stunning in the candlelight. He smiles at the flower, simply staring at it for a moment before he flips to the page that it's marked. 

He picks up the flower, twirling it between his fingers as he reads the words on the page. 

Red Chrysanthemum

Meaning: I Love You

Merlin feels his heart skip madly in his chest as he reads the words, over and over again. This isn't a joke. Is it? He stares down at the flower, then back up at the prince who still has his back turned. Even from this distance he can see the bright tinge of pink on the boy's ears. 

Merlin can feel himself start to blush but despite the embarrassment there's a smile plastered to his face. It was one of those smiles that came only once in a lifetime. Those smiles that one could never truly wipe off their face once it finally appeared. 

-----

Arthur shuffles nervously outside the door to the closet, staring at the aging wood as he clutches the book tightly in his arm. He can do this. He vowed to himself that he would do this, so why is he hesitating? He's a knight now. He can do this. 

Slowly, he enters the room, hearing the hinges creak as the door opens in front of him, revealing the room he's spent so much time in. Spent all his best moments. 

As he walks towards the grate he hears Merlin down in the cell, moving and shuffling as he hears him approach. "Arthur?" the boy calls, the simple sound of his voice making the prince feel much more relaxed. 

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asks as he sits himself down by the grate. 

Merlin smiles up at him, and that expression sends his nerves jumping once again. "No, was still awake. Did you need something?"

Arthur averts his gaze, not sure if he's able to say it with Merlin staring at him with those blue eyes. "Um, not really. I didn't need anything I just..." The sentence trails off, leaving him frustrated now as he tries to come up with the words. Why won't anything come out? Hasn't he practised this a hundreds times already?

"Just what?" Merlin asks curiously with a tilt of his head. 

Arthur blushes, then quickly turns away. He covers his face as he sticks his arms through the bars, holding the book out to the boy below. It takes a moment, but soon the book is gently tugged from his grasp. It's gone. He's taken it. There's no going back. 

Arthur curls up further into a ball, feeling more nervous about this than even the knighting ceremony. What will Merlin say? Will he laugh? Choose never to speak to him again? Oh no. He shouldn't have done this. He should take it back. Right now. Before Merlin reads it. 

He risks a glance at the grate and he tenses when he sees the book open on the boy's lap. Flower in his hand. Arthur quickly turns back around, face turning an even brighter shade of red as he knows that Merlin must be laughing at him. 

A minute passes. Then another minute. And when he still doesn't find an answer his mind turns to the worst thoughts. Merlin hates him. That must be it. Merlin thinks he's a creep and now is probably plotting to kill him. That must be what's happening. He's made a mistake. He's lost his only friend.

Something pokes him in the back and when Arthur turns he's surprised to see the book floating behind the bars with another flower stuck between the pages. 

Hesitantly, the prince reaches through the bars, grabbing the book. He flips to the page where the flower is, taking it out as he reads.

Ambrosia

Meaning: Love is Reciprocated

Chapter Text

Arthur smiles, heart pounding in his chest as he stares at the flower on his bedside table, the words on the page echoing in his head. 

'Love is reciprocated'

The prince giggles to himself as he rolls around underneath his covers, laughing with total abandon. Not caring if any passing guards or maids hear him. He's happy. Happier than he's ever been before in his entire life. For the longest time he's always thought that nothing could be better than becoming a knight of Camelot. Oh, how naive he was back then. Becoming a knight could never compare to the elation he feels from reading those three words on the page. 

"Merlin loves me," he mutters to himself with another giggle, his head finally popping out from underneath the covers. "Merlin loves me!" he shouts into the empty room. 

He laughs again before glancing to the window, finding the sun just beginning to rise in the distance. There should be another hour or two at least before Mary comes with breakfast. He has the time to give Merlin an early morning visit. Right?

With a smile the prince untangles himself from his blankets and leaps off the bed. He throws on his boots and rushes out the door, not even bothering to change from his night clothes as he dashes through the hall. 

By this time the maids and servants are already awake and working. They shuffle quietly through the corridors, chatting with one another as they start their days work. Arthur passes a few in the hall, giving them a cheery 'good morning' before sprinting past them. Most just chuckle as the prince darts by, assuming his excitement was due to his first day as an official knight rather than as a lovestruck boy. 

Arthur dashes down the steps, hurrying as fast as he can when he hears a voice call out to him. 

"Arthur?!" A shrill voice shouts, forcing the prince to come to a sudden stop. He turns only to find Mary walking up to him with a meal tray that consisted of nothing but bread and a jug of water in her hands. She looks him up and down with a face filled with confusion. "What are you doing? And in your nightwear at that! A prince shouldn't be wandering around the palace in such a fashion!"

"I was just... excited. It's my first day as a knight," he says, the words a partial lie. 

Mary sighs, "Ah... of course. There wouldn't be any other reason you would be up so early in the morning. Come on, let's get you changed," she says turning towards the direction of his chambers. 

Arthur mutters a little under his breath. Why did he have to run into Mary now of all times? "I can change myself. You're busy right now aren't you?" he says while gesturing to the tray in her hands, "You don't need to worry about me. I don't want to hold you from your other duties."

Mary glances down to the tray in her hands, only now remembering that she had something else to do. "Oh, you're right. I almost forgot," she says with an embarrassed smile, now turning back in the direction she was originally heading in. "I'll bring you breakfast once I deliver this." 

She scurries off, leaving Arthur to wonder who in the castle wanted nothing but a loaf of bread and water for breakfast. He shrugs, not being one to judge another person's strange tastes before turning and heading towards the closet where Merlin resides underneath. 

He reaches the room in record time, knowing that he has to be back and changed before Mary finds him, but still he wanted to see Merlin before going about the rest of his day. 

"Good morning, Merlin!" he calls with a smile as he drops down by the grate. 

Merlin sits up, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he yawns. "Good morning," he says through his yawn, "you're here early today."

Arthur blushes a little, "I have to go soon, but I wanted to see you first."

A hint of red appears on Merlin's face as he smiles. "You're gonna be late for your first day as a knight if you don't hurry."

The prince just smiles down at him with a goofy grin, "I know. But it's worth it. I'll come by later. I have to go before Mary finds out I haven't gone back to change yet." The prince gets up, turning to leave. 

"Arthur." The prince stops and turns back around. "Um..." Merlin looks down at at the ground with embarrassment, "I love you."

The prince's heart flutters in his chest at the words. Merlin's trying to kill him isn't he? "I love you too," he says a little too quietly before he rushes out the door and back to his chambers, covering his face the entire way. 

-----

It's a few months after Arthur's accession to knighthood before the king decides that the prince is ready to lead. Uther calls for Arthur one afternoon, sitting on his throne in the council chambers with a proud look on his face as his son enters. 

Arthur can feel his body grow stiff as the door opens and his father is revealed on the other side. All the nerves in his body are tingling with anticipation? Excitement? Dread? Whatever it is, he hopes he can get it over with soon. 

He stands on the opposite end of the table, waiting with his back straight for what his father has to say. The king though says nothing at first. Only stares as he inspects the boy - soon to be a man - stand before him. Uther smiles, then gets to his feet. "You've done well these past four months," he says with a heartwarming smile, "And I think it's about time you're assigned something more suited to your skill."

Arthur stands a little straighter at the praise, holding his chin up high and proudly. It's rare his father compliments him. Extremely rare. And whatever he's done to make him proud, he's sure to maintain it. 

"I believe you've heard the rumours about a druid camp being spotted in the Forest of Ascetir," Uther says, his tone suddenly shifting. 

Arthur frowns then nods slowly, "Yes, I've heard. They haven't caused any trouble have they?"

Uther's expression suddenly changes, morphing into one of utter disgust. "Their presence there is a problem on it's own and I want you to clear them out."

Arthur shuffles uncomfortably in his spot, suspecting what his father means but refusing to believe it, "You want me to ask them to leave?"

Uther turns on him, eyes furious. "They are sorcerers. A plague to this world. Simply 'asking them to leave' will not do. We need to show them that they are not welcome here in Camelot."

The words lodge themselves in the prince's throat. "You- you want me to..."

"That is exactly what I mean," Uther snaps, "what's wrong? You've killed people before. Bandits, thieves, knights from enemy kingdoms. A sorcerer should be even easier."

"But they haven't done anything wrong..."

The king's eyes grow furious at the words. He stands before his son, eyes ablaze with fury as he towers over him. "And are you going to wait until they've torched half the kingdom! I have seen their kind before. They will attack when you least expect it. Now go. I expect this matter to be resolved by the end of the week. Do not disappoint me."

Arthur can only stare straight ahead as the king takes his leave. His breathing comes in short, rapid breaths. He doesn't even register in his sights that his father has left the room. All he can do is stand there. Stand and stare into emptiness as his first assignment runs through his head. 

How is he supposed to do this? The druids are a peaceful race. At least that's what Gaius has long since taught him. They haven't done anything wrong. Done nothing to harm people. If they had been wicked liars and thieves then perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult. But they aren't. They are peaceful civilians. Like Merlin. 

He trembles at the thought of Merlin on the other end of his blade, shivers at the very idea of killing someone who has done nothing wrong. He can't do this. He just can't. But if he disobeys his father then the king will simply go himself. So what choice does he have?

-----

Morgana opens her eyes and what she sees is a small camp in the middle of a forest. Tents are set up around the rocky terrain, the people using what they can of the land. The smell of food is in the air and the sound of laughter from the children as they dash by permeate around the camp. The adults wander about, some caring for the young while others gather food from the nearby brush or water from the well in the centre of the camp. She witnesses something else as well. The unmistakable act of magic being preformed by some of the children as they play. She looks a little closer and now she notices the strange markings on every person. The mark of Druids.

At first she tenses, the ideas of magic instilled into her head by Uther still fresh in her mind. But at the sight of those innocent smiles, the calming nature of the people and the forest bring her mind back to ease. She smiles at the people, now starting to wonder how she had gotten here when the sound of horse hooves echo through the forest. Coming closer and closer. 

She turns around, spotting the red cape of Camelot in between the trees as the men storm from the edge of the forest. They raise their weapons high in the air. Shouts ringing out as they charge the campsite. 

"No! Stop!" she cries, trying to bring the knights to a stop only to be ignored as they barrel past her, kicking dust into her eyes. 

She squints, blinking until she can clearly see again. When she opens her eyes to look around she finds that the scene has changed. She's still in the same campsite with the same people. But with a few differences. First, the area is still and silent. The sound of the horses have ceased. The cries of terror from the people in the camp have disappeared, cut down by the men in red. Then, there's the campsite. Everything is destroyed, broken into pieces from the knights that came charging from the trees. And lastly, the people. Oh god, the people. All she can do is stare in stunned silence at the collection of bodies around her. Bodies of people from all ages. The men, the women, the children. Everyone. She collapses to the ground, shivering and sobbing at the massacre before her. The knights have all disappeared. All except one. 

The last knight stands there in the middle of the destruction, shoulders hunched and shaking. He looks young, almost the same age as herself, holding nothing in his hand but a bloodied sword. Morgana gets to her feet, legs shaking as she storms towards the lone knight, anger boiling within her. A deep well of energy pulsating through her body. 

She walks in front of him, almost throwing up when she sees the body of a young child in front of the knight then turns to face him, prepared to bash the man's head in herself until her eyes meet the man's face. Her breathing hitches in her throat, causing her to stumble backwards until the back of her knee hits the well. 

Arthur. 

She screams, sitting up frantically in bed just as the vase beside her shatters into pieces. She jumps at the sound, turning to stare at the jagged glass strewn across the floor before searching around only to find herself in the safety of her own chambers. In the safe walls of Camelot. She trembles at the nightmare, wondering why she would dream of such a thing and why the vase had shattered when there's a quiet knock on her door. 

"Morgana?" Gwen. It's Gwen. "Are you alright? The guards said they heard something."

"I-I'm fine." she says shakily, and she's sure that Gwen could hear the tremble in her voice. "Thank you, but I'll be fine."

The door opens anyways and Gwen walks in with a candle, looking concerned as she stands by the bed. She glances down at the broken vase on the floor, but after seeing the frightened look on her master's face chooses not to ask about it. "You don't look alright. Is it the nightmares again? I can have Gaius-"

"Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you Gwen."

The maid frowns, staring at her suspiciously. "If there's something you want to talk about you know you can always talk to me."

Morgana smiles, nodding once before lying back down on her bed, pretending to sleep. 

Gwen sighs, quickly cleaning up the shards of glass before turning away and heading towards the physicians chambers.

-----

It's when Arthur doesn't show up to practise the next morning that Morgana begins to worry. She quickly makes her way to Arthur's chambers, having already stopped by to see Merlin only to hear from the boy that the prince has yet to visit. Though that hadn't been the only reason she visited the warlock. There had been something else she wanted to ask him. Something more... personal. But she chose to run at the last moment. Chose not to ask and instead smiled and left. After all, there was no need to rush. She's not even sure that what happened last night was truly an act of... magic. She could have accidentally knocked over the vase during her nightmare. Yes, that was it. It was nothing but an accident. 

She calms her nerves, trying to push her fears from her mind before stopping in front of the prince's chambers. She doesn't bother knocking on his door, and instead barges right in without warning.

"Would it kill you to knock?" Arthur asks, exasperated as he turns to look at her from his spot at his desk.

She ignores him, walking up to the table to look at the spread of notes and maps he has on his table. With a quick scan she finds that most of them are about the Forest of Ascetir. "Are you heading out somewhere?" she asks, a little hesitantly.

Arthur scowls at her, moving his hand to cover some of the pages. "No. And besides it's none of your business."

She sends him an equally annoyed scowl, before taking a deep breath to calm herself down. This is not the time to be angry. If her... nightmare is correct then many lives are going to be lost. "Does it have something to do with Druids?" She asks hesitantly, looking the prince straight in the eyes with all seriousness while praying silently to herself that she was wrong. 

Arthur frowns, leaning forward with a scrutinizing stare. "How did you know that? Did father tell you?" 

Morgana tenses, feeling the breath catch in her throat as the images of blood and death flash through her mind. It's happening. It's really happening. But why did she dream of such a thing?How was she able to see this... premonition? She looks down at her own hands, trembling slightly as the questions continue to float through her mind and only there's only one answer she can reach. Magic. It was really magic. 

She shivers at the thought, picturing all those sorcerers that have been burned at the stake before quickly pushing those thoughts from her head. She can't be sure yet. It may have been some strange twist of fate. There's still hope. She'll ask Merlin later... but right now she needs to focus on the problem at hand. 

Her hands slam down on the table, causing its contents to clatter and Arthur to reel backwards with surprise. "You can't go."

He sighs and leans back in his chair, looking a little sad as well as understanding. "I know you don't like father's methods and I don't agree either, but I can't simply ignore his direct orders," he sighs again, rubbing his temples in frustration, "This is the first assignment he's ever given me. I can't fail him."

A desperate look crosses Morgana's face, "I've seen what's going to happen. It's going to be a massacre!"

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'you've seen it'?" 

"I have... I have a feeling. But that doesn't matter! Just please don't go!"

The prince stares at her suspiciously for a moment, but allows the subject to drop. "I would if I could. But father-"

"Then there has to be some other way. Something else you can do? Can't you talk him out of this?" 

"Morgana, please. I told you I can't-" 

She scowls at him again, reaching her hand over the table to grab at his tunic and yank him in close. Her eyes pierce through him with what looks to be anger and disappointment. "How long are you planning on turning a blind eye? I know you disapprove of everything that Uther does so why do you still listen to him? Do you not feel ashamed of yourself?"

Arthur looks down, staring into nothing as he lets the words sink in. But still he keeps quiet. 

Morgana tightens her grip on his tunic, knuckles turning white now as she pulls him even closer. "You can't just keep sitting idly by while Uther exterminates an entire race of people! Is this the Camelot you want to show Merlin? The one that your so boastful of, the one that you yourself will lead! Is this the world you want him to see when we finally get him out of that hole? One darkness into another?" 

That seems to strike a cord with the prince. He grabs her wrist, disentangling her hand from his tunic before leaning back against his chair. The sadness in his eyes show how much the words must have stung and when he finally looks back up at her she almost regrets what she said. Almost. 

"I'm sorry," he mutters, shame written across his face. 

"No, I-I was too harsh with my words. I'm sorry as well."

Arthur gets to his feet, walking towards the window behind him to stare out into the courtyard, out at the very spot numerous sorcerers have been burned. "No, you were right. I've... I've been a coward. I know what father does is wrong but I never have the courage to say anything against him. I know that some sorcerers can be... bad. I've seen plenty of them," he lets out a breath then turns back around to face Morgana, finding her with a small smile on her face, "But I've also seen good ones. The Druids. Gaius. Merlin. And it's not fair to them to have to face my father's wrath when they've done nothing wrong."

Morgana can only smile at the words and she's happy to see the prince smile back. "I'll go speak with father. Try and reason him out of this decision."

Chapter Text

"Absolutely not!" Uther shouts, his voice echoing across the chamber as he paces along the length of the room, eyes refusing to meet that of his son's. "How many times have I told you before that sorcerers are dangerous. They do nothing but cause death and destruction. The longer we leave those Druids unchecked the more likely they will strike."

Arthur keeps his head down throughout the entire speech, not knowing when would be the best time for him to interject with his thoughts. He silently wishes Morgana were here now. She had always been braver than him when facing the king.

"Now, do I make myself clear?" Uther says sternly, standing right in front of the prince with stern eyes. 

"But father there-"

"I said do I make myself clear?" he repeats the words, his tone even colder than before. 

Arthur says nothing, only keeps his head down as he shifts from foot to foot nervously. 

Uther heaves a sigh, turning his back to him as he shakes his head. "I suppose I was being too hasty. I thought you were ready but..." he turns back around, sending the prince a disappointed look, "clearly I was wrong."

The prince stiffens at the words, the hurt spreading through his body as he stares into his father's eyes. "No, I'm sorry father. I-I can do it."

"Can you?"

"Yes, I can. I'll resolve this issue."

The king's stare is still cold as he regards his son. With a quick look up and down he sighs, giving in. "Do not disappoint me again."

-----

Arthur stands by the grate, staring down at the boy in the cell who reads happily without a care in the world. A blue light brightens the room, allowing him to see that there's a smile on the warlock's face and if the prince listens closely he swears he can hear Merlin humming softly to himself. The tune makes him feel warm inside, makes his problems melt away, but with a flash of golden eyes he remembers exactly what troubles him. Magic. It always comes down to magic in this kingdom doesn't it?

Arthur crouches down beside the grate, staring at the peaceful scene. He looks around himself, seeing the room covered in a layer of darkness. How strange it is that now he was the one stuck in that never-ending abyss. He looks back down into the grate then smiles as he calls out, "How are you doing today?" 

Merlin looks up and almost instantly his expression lights up. He bounds towards the bottom of the grate, the excitement clearly evident in the light spring in his step, but the happiness fades suddenly when he gets a closer look at the prince's face. "What's wrong?" he asks, concern laced into each word, "Did something happen?"

The prince is taken aback. When did Merlin learn how to read him so well? "Nothing, just tired."

Merlin frowns, his lips pursed as he stares up at the prince, his expression clear that he didn't believe him. "I highly doubt that."

Arthur sighs, but feels a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, happy to know that the boy cares for him so much. "I'm... confused," he begins, staring down at the floor, "My father gave me my first assignment. My first real assignment."

"That's great! Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, fidgeting with a few of the strands as he chooses his next words. "I know - I was - but... what he's asking is too much for me to handle."

"Too much for the great Arthur?" Merlin asks with a mocking tone, "What sort of task could get such an arrogant prat to admit he can't do it."

Arthur cracks a small smile. "Oh, shut up and listen would you? I haven't finished."

"Sorry, sorry," Merlin says with a grin, "go on."

The prince takes another deep breath. This next part is going to be a sensitive topic. "My orders are to destroy a... a druid camp in the Forest of Ascetir. And- and I don't know what to do."

Merlin's smile drops, his shoulders tensing slightly as he thinks back to what happened to his own mother and father. Innocent lives. Gone. All gone in a few short moments because of a single man's hatred. He doesn't want something like that to happen again. Never. "You can't do it," he says, voice a little desperate, "you can't go. You can't let anyone go!"

Arthur hides his face, not wanting to face the warlock. "But my father-"

"Arthur, you can't do this! I know he's your father, but..." he stops for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully, "but you have to learn when to do things for yourself. To do the things that you think is right. I know you and I know you would never do this. Not willingly. I-I don't want to see something like that happen ever again. And I especially don't want to know that it's happening because of you."

The prince is silent for a moment, hearing the hurt in the warlock's words as he ponders the questions in his mind. He understands what Merlin is saying. Of course he does. But can he really defy his father? Does he really have that courage? "What if... what would you do if I did follow my father's orders?"

Merlin is quiet for a long time. There isn't a sound. Nothing but the sound of his own heart beating in his chest as he waits for Merlin's answer. But as the silence stretches on he realizes he doesn't need an answer. He already knows what it is. He wouldn't be forgiven. Even if their relationship remained there would always be that hint of distrust hanging over them and that was something he never wanted to happen. 

Still, despite the consequences could he really do it? Going against his father is something he never even dreamed of doing before. Yet, he knows what his father's doing is wrong. It's just all wrong. "Do you think I can do it? My father... what if he-" he doesn't finish his sentence. Instead he falls back into silence. 

"You need to make your own choices. You can't keep listening to your father forever. He isn't always right."

"You don't get it Merlin I don't want to disappoint him! This is my first assignment as a knight! This is the first one I'll ever lead if I fail now he'll never trust me again!"

The warlock goes silent. Unable to say anything more. 

Arthur sighs, rubbing at his temples in frustration. He gets to his feet, turning around and heading towards the hall without another word, but just before he shuts the door he hears Merlin say quietly, "I trust you, Arthur. Morgana trusts you. Gwen trusts you. And I hope that one day you can trust yourself too because you have the heart of a great king. I hope you won't betray it."

Arthur's grip tightens on the handle before he finally shuts the door behind him. 

-----

After a long day of pondering the prince rides out in the lead the next morning with his men behind him as they make their way past the gates of the castle. He risks a quick look back, catching a glimpse of his father and Morgana standing by the steps. His father stares at him proudly, a wide smile on his face as he watches his son head off on his first assignment. Morgana too has a smile on her face, though its slightly strained as the worry seeps through the mask. Arthur sends them both a wave before heading through the town and into the forest, readying himself for the task ahead.

It's a few days worth of travelling before they are close enough to see the smoke rising above the Druid camp in the distance. Arthur raises a hand, stopping his men in their tracks. "We'll make camp here. I don't want to get too close. We'll wait until we have the cover of nightfall before we attack. For now, I want you all to rest."

The men nod before dispersing, heading out on various tasks as they set up camp. Arthur leaps off his horse, tying it down to a nearby tree before helping out with a few of the odd tasks. When a reasonable amount of time has past and most of his men have settled down Arthur turns and head towards the forest.

"Where are you headed sire?" One of his knights ask.

"A walk. I want to clear my head before the raid. I need to be prepared," he replies. 

"Are you sure you don't someone to come with you? The Druids are close. What if they spot you?" The knight looks at him with concern. 

"I'll be fine, besides I want some time alone."

"Yes, sire."

He trudges through the forest in the opposite direction of the Druid's location. When he deems that he's far enough away he makes a wide circle around the knight's camp, making his way towards the Druids. He'll make sure this raid never happens. He'll trust in himself. 

When he first enters the Druid camp he finds the area eerily quiet. There's no one around. Nothing but the signs that someone has recently been here. "Hello?" Arthur calls, his voice echoing across the clearing. "Is anyone there?"

There's no reply, but the quiet rustle from the foliage nearby tells him that people are here.

"I am Arthur Pendragon," he says, voice booming across the clearing. "Prince of Camelot. And I have come here with a warning."

A kindly looking man appears from behind one of the trees. His hair is white and curly, appearing to stick up in odd places. He wears a long, green cloak that trails behind him as he approaches. From what Arthur can tell. This man is the leader. 

"And why would a Pendragon warn us?" he asks, weary, and Arthur doesn't blame him. 

"I may be my father's son, but I do not believe in his ways. None of you have done Camelot any harm and I don't believe any of you ever will. Please, leave this place now before nightfall."

The man regards him with a peculiar gaze before glancing up behind him and noticing the smoke rising in the distance from a nearby campfire. He smiles warmly at him before nodding. "I see. I believe you, Pendragon."

Arthur looks up, eyes filled with relief. "Thank you."

The man walks forward, stretching a hand out. "No, I should be the one thanking you. The name's Iseldir and-"

Before he can finish his sentence there's a loud cry from deep within the trees. The thundering of hooves and the shouts from men ring out along the forest's edge as knights dressed in red flood out of the woods like a torrent. 

The men, women, and children in the camp scream as the knights thunder past. They run in all directions, some ducking for cover behind the rocks while others attempt to fight back. Iseldir can only stare in horror as the men charge him, weapons at the ready while menacing snarls adorn their faces.

Meanwhile, Arthur can only stare as chaos ensues around him. The sound of hooves and screams fill his ears. The scent of fire and smoke permeate through the forest. A shiver runs down his spine as he watches men cut down the druids, slashing and stabbing into them as though they were nothing more than simple animals. He tries to raise his voice. Tries to stop them but his voice won't come. He can't move. He can't speak. All he can do is stare.

As the screams echo around him he feels disappointment weighing down in his chest. He's ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he can't do anything. Ashamed that while the innocent die around him all he can do is freeze. He's powerless. He should have known that he couldn't save them. 

He looks again at the scene around him, finding bodies strewn across the dirt, Druids crawling in pain as they attempt to escape. While he looks on he starts to wonder whether this is what Merlin saw as a child. Whether this was what had happened to his village as well. All of it just seems so wrong. How could anyone do such a thing? How could he so such a thing? Merlin has placed his trust in him. He may have failed to save him from that cell, but he won't fail him now. He'll protect these people. 

The prince holds his head up high as he strides forward. He walks towards the centre of the camp, yelling at any knight near him to stop as he steps up onto the well in the centre. With a deep breath he shouts across the ridge with all his might. "I order you all to stop!"

His voice echoes across the forest, it's imposing tone sending a cold shiver down the spines of all the knights. They freeze in place, some in mid swing and others in mid charge as they turn to stare at the boy - no the man - who stands above them all, eyes filled with untold fury. "Drop your weapons!"

The men hesitate at first, looking between one another before setting their swords down. 

Arthur glares at each and every man, his eyes narrowed as he pulls his sword from his belt and points it at the nearest man. "I thought I had ordered you all to stay at the camp! Why did you all come here?" 

No one answers, instead they all shift uncomfortably in place. 

"Answer me!"

"It was a direct order sire," one of the knights say, an elder man with a beard and greying hair. 

"A direct order?! From who?"

The man shifts slightly, straightening his back and holding his chin up high as he smirks at the young prince. "From the king himself."

Arthur eyes flare with anger, the fire strong enough to melt even the strongest of metal. "When we are out in the field I expect my men to listen to my orders. Do I make myself clear?"

The knight sneers at the prince. "The orders of our lord take precedent over the orders of his son," the man says before a devilish grin appears on his face. "Besides, I heard, Arthur, that you and your father had a sort of... falling out recently. You see, he ordered me to come keep an eye on you. Make sure you were doing your job properly, but don't worry lad. I won't tell your father."

Arthur approaches the man, his knights parting around him as he moves closer towards this man who had the audacity to disobey him. Who thought that he had power over a prince. 

The knight though stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his face as he looks down on the boy that approaches him, still picturing him as that naive prince who plays at being a king. But, as the prince approaches, he finds himself growing uneasy. He shifts in his spot, starting to back away. He feels himself growing smaller, shrinking and shrinking as the prince appears to grow in height above him. By the time Arthur has stopped in front of him, he finds himself cowering at the sight of the man towering over him.

"Tell him," the prince hisses between gritted teeth, "I no longer care what that man thinks, but if anyone here defies my orders again I will ensure that it is your head on the chopping block tomorrow and I expect those who have yet to earn my respect not to refer to me with such familiarity."

The prince turns his back on his knights, returning to the Druids side as he helps put out the fires that still continue to burn. He hears the knights behind him start to leave, clearing out of the forest and most likely heading back to Camelot without him. A few though stay behind, choosing to help the Druids as best they can and the sight makes him smile. But still he dreads the moment he'll have to confront the king yet despite his fears he's for once happy with the decision he's made. He's saved lives and that's all that matters. 

"My lord," Iseldir says, coming up behind him with a warm smile, "I want to thank you again for all your help. Many people's lives have been saved because of you."

"Just Arthur is fine and no," Arthur says with a shake of his head, "I wasn't able to prevent the bloodshed. I apologize for what has been done to your people."

Iseldir rests a hand on the prince's shoulder, "Now don't be too harsh on yourself. You have saved the lives of all of us here." He waves a hand across the camp, gesturing to all the men, women, and children around him. "We owe you all our lives."

Arthur smiles, looking around and seeing some of the relieved smiles on the faces of a few families. "Thank you."

The Druid smiles, patting him on the back once more. "You have the heart of a great king, Arthur. If you ever need anything we will be happy to serve you."

A chuckle escapes the prince's lips at the familiar words. "I've heard someone call me that before."

"Well, it's the truth. When you become king we'll be the first to return to Camelot. I hope when that time comes you'll welcome us back home with open arms."

Arthur grins, "Of course. Any citizen is welcome here. Be it Druid or sorcerer. I will bring this kingdom back to its former glory."

------

"You are a disappointment to this kingdom!" Uther shouts as he slams his fist on the table, making the wine inside the pitcher ripple at the force. "I gave you one simple task. One order. And your men return to tell me that you have disobeyed my command."

Arthur clenches his fists behind his back, hoping his father can't see the slight shaking of his shoulders as he boils over with anger. "I did not disobey you," Arthur states through gritted teeth, "The Druids have left Camelot. That was the order. I did what I was told."

"Has your mentor taught you nothing?! Sorcerers are deceivers. They feed on lies and treachery and you come here to inform me that you allowed them to live?"

"Gaius had no influence over my decision. I found that it was unnecessary to kill them. They were willing to leave when asked. I don't see the problem."

"Unnecessary!? This is for the good of Camelot and you have the gall to tell me this was unnecessary?"

Arthur has to force himself to stay calm, but still his fingers twitch towards the weapon at his side. "And you would call the sacrifice of dozens of men, women, and-" he scoffs at the very thought, "-children to be for the good of Camelot?" 

"If it's necessary I would sacrifice the lives of a hundred children to free this kingdom from magic. And it is necessary."

"Necessary?" He growls just before grabbing the pitcher of wine and hurtling it towards the throne, narrowly missing his father. "So, is locking a child in a bloody cell for all his life something you also find necessary?!" 

Chapter Text

The shadows tremble on the wall as Morgana waits outside the door, her shaking hands jostling the candlelight that she holds aloft. Here she will find the answer. Here she will learn the truth about herself. 

She enters the room, quickly shutting the door behind her before shuffling towards the grate. "Merlin?" she whispers, glancing around in the dimly lit room as though someone is watching her in the shadows. "Merlin? Are you awake?"

"Hm?" Merlin murmurs from below, "Morgana? Is that you? Why are you here so late at night?"

"I-" she hesitates, once again looking around in fear. "I have something I want to ask you."

"Me?" Merlin asks, sitting up, "Can't you talk to Arthur about it?"

"He's speaking with the king right now. Besides, he- I'm afraid of what he'll do if he knows about this." Her voice breaks a little at the end, letting the fear she feels out into the open. She's never been so vulnerable before. Never truly opened up to someone like this. 

"Is it really that bad?" Merlins asks with concern. 

"Arthur can't know about this. No matter what. If I tell you, you have to promise me you won't tell him."

"I promise, now care to share?"

Morgana chews on her lower lip, once more glancing over her shoulder before continuing in a quiet whisper, "I- I think I have magic."

Merlin has to stifle a gasp as he stumbles back in astonishment. "Magic?" he whispers back, "are you sure?"

"Well, maybe. I don't know. That's why I came to you!" 

"What makes you think you have magic?" 

Morgana's hands continue shake in her lap. She can't say it. Not aloud. Saying it would mean admitting that it really happened. That's right. It was probably a dream. A bad nightmare. Everything must have been conjured by her mind. 

"Magic isn't something you need to fear," Merlin suddenly says with a smile, "It's something wonderful. Something beautiful as long as you use it right." As though to accentuate his words he uses his magic to cause the candle flame to float up into the air and drift in circles around her. "Are you afraid of me?"

The words are quiet, even in the silence of the night, and are just barely above a whisper. Perhaps he had never meant it to be heard but regardless Morgana hears. She hears the silent question, the fear in his voice, the quiver as he speaks. Even Merlin is afraid of himself. Merlin, the boy who was born with magic, who has used it countless times is still afraid. Just like her. The thought brings her comfort. Simply knowing that there is someone else who feels the same way brings her reassurance. "I'm not afraid of you. Of course I'm not," she says, surprising the boy below. 

Merlin sends her a sheepish grin. "Thank you." 

Morgana returns the smile before she turns to watch the fire float around her. She holds her hand out, letting the light gently drift down into her palm before it flickers out. The darkness surrounds her once more, but for some reason she doesn't seem to notice it. Doesn't allow it to consume her. Instead, she holds the palm of her own hand out and, with a glance down at Merlin, wills a flame to appear in her own hands. She doesn't know how she does it. She can't explain it. Can't even describe it. All she knows is that it feels natural. Right. Like it's something that she should do. 

The fire flickers in her palm, bathing the room with a gentle glow of orange. The warmth of the fire spreads through her body, gathering comfortingly in her centre as she stares into the flame. Of all the things she's done in her life she never thought that such a feat would be one of her proudest achievements. 

Within only a few, short moments the fire disappears. Dissipating into the night almost as quickly as it had appeared. Morgana looks down proudly, feeling her heart swell with confidence as she meets the eyes of the boy below. 

Merlin smiles up at her, but before he's able to say a word there's a series of loud knocks against the door. The sound echoes across the cell, the unfamiliar noise shocking the boy into stillness. 

Morgana staggers back, feeling her breathing quicken as she peers down into the cell again, trying to keep herself hidden from view. When she looks through she finds Merlin standing now, looking terrified as he keeps his eyes locked on the door, hand outstretched. 

"Who's there?" Merlin calls. 

"It's me," a voice replies. 

-----

The room is silent, the tension suffocating. Questions form in the minds of both parties. Questions about how, about why, and about why not, but none are ever asked as the pair stare each other down. 

The prince doesn't move a muscle. Doesn't try to show how frightened he truly is. He had said the words in a fit of passion and anger. He had let all those pent up feelings he had kept locked away for all those years finally burst free. It was probably the worst and best - actually second best - decision he's made in his life. Best because he has finally built up the confidence in himself, in his views, and in his morals. Best because he has finally told his father what he really thinks. Yet, it's the worst because now Merlin is in danger. 

Uther stands unmoving. Nothing is betrayed by his expression, not his emotions, not his thoughts. Nothing. He's silent - contrary to Arthur's expectation - and this silence is what makes the prince afraid. If the man had lashed out, yelled, or threatened him it would have been easier to deal with than this silence. This silence is maddening. It worries him. Makes him question what his father will do. 

"Guards," Uther calls before two armed men enter the room, "restrain him. I'm going to find that bloody caretaker."

The guards reach out to grab him but he quickly darts out of the way, turning towards the main door behind him and running as fast as his legs can take him. If this is how his father wants to do things then he isn't about to sit quietly and let himself be taken in. He needs to find Merlin. Find him before his father has the chance to get to him first. But how? He's spent years searching. Years scouring every corner of this palace and turned up with nothing. How can he find it now? And with so little time?

He ducks around a pillar, waiting for the guards to run past before allowing himself the time to think. Should he head back to the council chambers and follow his father? He might lead him to where Merlin is, but by then it would be too late. What was it that his father said before he ran off? That he was going to find the caretaker? 

The words stick in his mind. Caretaker. Was he talking about Mary? Or was it the person who brought Merlin his meals? If he's going to find Mary then why? It isn't as though she's involved... The thought trails off in his head. No. She is involved, because she knows where Merlin is.

He peeks his head around the corner, checking for any guards before darting out and heading down to the kitchens. He smiles to himself as he weaves through the crowd of servants because unlike his father he knows Mary's schedule and at this time of the day she would be down in the kitchen's fetching his dinner. He bursts through the doors of the kitchen, startling everyone inside.

"Prince Arthur!" The cook shouts, coming towards him rather menacingly with a ladle, "I thought I told you before not to come running in here looking for food. I'll tell your- Where do you think you're going?"

The prince brushes past her, ignoring the questioning stares from the other maids and servants inside and heading straight to Mary who stares rather worriedly at him. "Is there something wrong, my lord?" she asks, his meal in her hands.

"I need to talk to you." he glances around, seeing all the curious faces, "privately."

He drags her outside and into one of the storage closets. Again he peers around the corner before shutting the door. When he turns around he finds his caretaker staring at him with confused eyes. 

"Where is he?" he demands, getting straight to the point.

"Where's who?" she asks, growing a little frantic, "I don't know who you're talking about!"

"The boy that my father has locked away somewhere. You know where he is. Tell me!" He grabs her shoulders before quickly letting go. "Sorry."

She shakes her head. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Please. This is important to me. I need to find him."

Mary hesitates, looking over her shoulder at the shelves behind her as though she expected the king's eyes to appear from the shadows. "How did you find out?" she asks quietly. 

"You never came on trips to visiting kingdoms. That means you must have had another task important enough that my father would allow you to ignore you're duties with me. Then, there was the time I saw you bringing a tray of bread and water to someone. No noble would eat that, only a prisoner. You knew about him. Why didn't you ever tell me? You must have known I was visiting him."

"How could I say anything? The king had forbidden me from speaking about him. If I had told you he-" she breaks off for a moment, "-he would have killed me. I was afraid of what he would have done."

Arthur sighs and nods. He can respect that. "Well, my father knows now and I need to find Merlin before he does. What he's doing is wrong. It's immoral! Please, take me to him. I promise I won't let the blame fall on you."

She looks down at the floor, contemplating his words. "So," she says with a small smile, "Merlin is the boy's name. I never knew," she looks up at the prince with a warm smile like that of a mother, "I've taken care of you for a long time now, my lord. I watched you grow perhaps even more than the king has and... looking at you now makes me so proud. You'll become a great king Arthur. Better than your father ever was. Come. I'll show you the way, but I'll tell you now that not even I have the key to the cell. Only the king has that."

"I'll deal with that later," he says, ushering her out the door, "for now please show me the way."

She opens the door, leading them both out into the hall. Arthur follows behind her, looking a little wary as he makes his way through the winding corridors. Eventually, after having headed down the stairs and through a number of dimly lit halls they find themselves in Camelot's dungeon. 

After the pair pass the guards Arthur leans in beside her. "He's down here? But I've already-"

She raises a finger and shushes him. "No, you wouldn't have found it if you didn't know where to look."

She leads him deeper into the dungeon and doesn't stop until they reach an empty cell. There isn't anything special about the room. It looked the same as any other. Straw is spread across the floor, covering almost every corner. Arthur frowns as they enter the cell, looking around in curiosity.  

"There's nothing here," Arthur says, kicking the straw around, "I've searched in all the cells before."

Mary smirks, pulling a key out from the pocket of her apron before kneeling down beside a loose stone. Again the prince frowns, staring with a peculiar gaze as he watches her pull the rock loose and stick her arm into the stone with the key. "I've searched there too," Arthur says, "it's just a loose roc-" 

There's a click and the sound of something sliding open. Mary pulls the key out then slots the stone back in. She leads him back out of the cell, heading three doors down to another empty cell. She unlocks the gate then walks in and as Arthur follows he's amazed to see a corridor in front of him. The back wall had slid open, revealing a long corridor that stretches into an abyss. 

-----

Merlin smiles as the little flame appears in Morgana's palm, the light chasing away the darkness around them. The fire burns brightly but even that couldn't compare to the smile that shines on Morgana's face. There's a twinkle in her eyes, a bright spark that not even the darkness can touch. Even when the fire goes out Merlin can still see that shimmer. 

He catches her smiling down at him, her expression like that of a young child seeking the approval of a parent. Merlin returns the smile, about to tell her to go speak with Arthur when there's a knock on the door behind him. He stiffens, surprised at the unfamiliar noise. He sees Morgana stagger back above him, hiding herself from view. She looks afraid, terrified as the knocking grows more frantic. It sounds like someone's pounding against the door, attempting to break it down with nothing more than their fists. 

A part of him is terrified. Afraid of what could be outside. Of what is beating down the door. There could be a monster, a crazed murder, or worst of all that man who brought him down here in the first place. What if it's him? What does he do if it's that man that comes down here? With that thought in his head he finds himself scrambling to his feet, backing himself against the wall behind him until he can feel the cold stone digging into his back. His breathing is growing shallow. It speeds up as his mind starts to collapse. That man is coming. He's going to die. He's never going to see Arthur. 

As those thoughts swirl through his mind another part of him surfaces. An ugly part of him. A part of him that's nothing but a concoction of resentment, anger, desperation, and the thirst for revenge. His magic responds to his blood thirst, his want for the destruction of everything that man holds dear. He holds a hand up towards the door, feeling his magic concentrate into the palm of his hand as it readies itself to attack. The second that man opens the door he'll kill him. He'll tear him to pieces and finally gain his freedom.  

With hands still shaking he takes a few steps forward, moving closer to the door as he calls out, "Who's there?"

"It's me," A familiar voice replies. 

Chapter Text

The candle does little to chase away the darkness that surrounds the pair as they make their way deeper through the hall. Arthur walks in front, his hand resting against the hilt of his sword as his step quickens with each second. He's so close. So close to finding Merlin. It's been years and now, finally, he'll meet him. He'll be able to hug him, kiss him, and keep him at his side forever.

"My lord," Mary calls, coming up behind him with the candle in her hand, "I hope you realize I don't have the key to the boy's cell. Only your father has that."

Arthur frowns but continues forward, not about to let some stupid key stop him from getting Merlin out. "I'll find some other way in. I'm getting him out tonight."

Mary smiles at his back before walking up ahead of him. She holds the candle up and leads him further in, not stopping until they reach the end of the hall where an iron door stretches up in front of them.

Arthur can feel his knees go weak as the door appears before him. There's a sudden rush of emotion all through his body because this is it. This is where it all ends. Here is everything that he stands for and everything that his father doesn't. His fingers twitch beside him, itching to tear down that door and let free all those things that his father has kept locked away. All the secrets and atrocities that the king has hidden from everyone. 

He dashes forward, grabbing the handle and jiggling it a few times before knocking loudly against the door. He pounds on the metal with the same rhythm of his heart till he isn't sure anymore whether the loud thump thump thump he hears is the pumping of his blood or his fist against the door. Mary tries to pry him off, telling him to cool his head and think before trying to tear down the cell with his hands. He ignores her, wanting nothing more than to break through into the room where Merlin is so he can finally wrap his arms around the idiot.

The only thing that stops him from his frenzy is the sound of a familiar voice on the other side. "Who are you?"

Arthur shivers at the words, feeling as though a cold dagger is being dragged across his neck. There's an unmistakable killing intent emanating from behind the door. A rush of power and danger that makes all his instincts tell him that this is a fight he'll never win.

Pushing down the fear inside Arthur leans in close to the door and replies, "It's me. It's Arthur. You don't have to worry I won't let anything happen to you."

Suddenly that cold aura disappears, bring replaced with the sound of footsteps on the other side as Merlin rushes over. "Arthur? Arthur!" He calls, voice now filled with relief as he knocks against the door as well. The sound is frantic, as though he too is trying to tear down the door one bit at a time. "You... you're really here?"

"Of course I am. I promised you didn't I?"

The knocking slowly stops, being replaced with the sound of a sigh and a chuckle as Merlin appears to calm down. "Thank you," he whispers quietly, "thank you so much."

Arthur smiles, placing a hand on the door as he rests his forehead against the cold iron. "I'd do anything for you. Now come on, let's get you out."

Arthur moves away from the door, inspecting the hinges when the sound of footsteps disrupts him. Of numerous footsteps.

The prince stiffens, turning to look down the hall only to see a faint light at the end. One that hadn't been there before. It seems ominous. Like a messenger arriving from the depths of the underworld.

Mary looks to the prince with worry, apparently fearing the same thing he does as Arthur quickly turns to the door. He kicks as hard as he can near the handle, hoping to break through with brute strength alone but to no avail. The door remains shut. He looks again down the hall, finding the light growing in size as the footsteps become louder and louder. He tries to kick again, praying to whatever being is out there that the door will just give in but still it remains closed. There's no way he can break through an iron door. There's just no way.

"Arthur?" Merlin calls, voice filled with concern. "What's going on? Is-"

"Restrain him."

Guards appear from the hall, grabbing the prince and his caretaker by the shoulders as the king strides forward. His expression is set into a snarl as he walks up to his son. The betrayal in his father's eyes almost makes Arthur regret what he's done, but only almost, because behind that look of disappointment is something else. Something like shame and disgust for what he's done.

Arthur struggles in the guards grasp before the man forces him down on his knees, making him look up towards the king as the man stands over him. "I expected more from you," he says, voice cold, the minimal emotion he ever showed gone.

"And I expected more from you as a father," Arthur says with a growl, "I suppose we're both disappointed."

The king's eyes suddenly darken at the words, his fingers seem to twitch beside him, curling into a fist when there's a loud knock from the iron door. "Arthur?" Merlin calls, and the voice makes both the royals freeze in place. "Is everything alright?"

Uther turns his attention now to the door, his eyes revealing nothing as he pulls a key from his belt. A guard beside him hands him a pair of manacles before Uther turns the key into the lock and opens the door.

"No!" Arthur shouts, struggling against the guards that hold him but even he isn't strong enough to take down three knights all by himself, "father please! He's done nothing wrong!"

The king ignores him as the door swings open and finally, at last, Arthur's able to get a proper look at his friend. He sees dark hair and tattered clothes. A distinct red neckerchief. Then bright blue eyes meet his and suddenly the world feels perfect. Like there was nothing wrong. Like everything was alright because all he needed is right here in front of him. But, almost as quickly as it had started, the moment is broken by Uther reaching out and grabbing Merlin by his hair. The boy cries out in pain as Uther throws him roughly into the hall, forcing him down on the ground as he locks the manacles on his wrists.

"Merlin..." Arthur says, the words barely above a whisper as the king yanks the boy to his knees in front of him.

Merlin looks to him in terror, eyes frantic as he tries to escape the king's grasp but that only earns him a kick to the stomach. Merlin coughs, doubling over in pain only to have Uther grab him by his hair again and yank him upright. The warlock's eyes glow a faint gold, the colour appearing for only a brief moment before they flicker out into nothingness.

"Now," Uther says, taking the sword from Arthur's belt and holding the hilt out towards his son, "I'll give you one last chance," he says, "Kill him and we'll say that this never happened."

Arthur turns his gaze from the hilt of the sword to Merlin. The boy's eyes are red, the tears prickling at the corners as his eyes remain fixed on the blade in front of him. He doesn't seem to register much of what Uther had demanded but the mere sight of the sword has frozen him in his tracks. There's an untold fear in his eyes, a fear that Arthur has only seen a few times from the old knights still working under his father. It's a fear for what has happened and for what may yet happen again.

Arthur turns his gaze to his father, seeing the man's eyes narrowed in his direction. There's a chilling authority in his stare. A sense of superiority as he stands before the prince with the sword in hand and the warlock in the other. Without uttering another word the prince knows what his father expects. Knows all the thoughts he has in his head. His father wants him to take up the blade, to kill his friend, and to follow him in his footsteps. The king wants him to forsake his morals, his obligations, and everything he holds dear just to appease him. Just so he can continue to spread his hatred around the kingdom.

The guards beside him loosen their grip, allowing him to get to his feet but still they keep a close eye on him, making sure that he doesn't try anything. Arthur looks down at the blade then once more to his friend who still is petrified with fear. The prince reaches out, grasping the handle offered to him and from the corner of his eye he can catch a small smirk spread across his father's face. He lifts the sword up, watching with sadness as Merlin's eyes trail after the sword, following it as though caught in a trance, a nightmare where the only way out is the tip of the blade. He wonders about the thoughts that must be cycling through the boy's mind. Was he thinking about his fellow kin? His village and family? The outside world?

"Kill him. He means nothing to you," Uther says, pushing the boy forward.

Arthur turns his gaze onto the king, tightening the grip on his sword then swings. Before the blade is able to make contact Uther catches his wrist, managing to wrestle him against the wall before he sighs with disappointment. "I'm ashamed of you Arthur," the king says, "I expected more from you." There's a quick order and soon enough the guards grab him again, except this time they drag him down the hall, down towards the cells.

He can still see his father standing before the warlock, sword now in his hand as he towers over the boy. He sees the man's lips move, as though uttering a threat, before the darkness of the hall obscures the scene from view and he's left in the shadows.

-----

Arthur paces back and forth along the length of his cell, wondering what his father is planning. He had been so close. So close. Merlin was in front of him. Was within arms reach but still he had failed. He had let him down in far more ways than one. If only he had been faster, or had realized that it was Mary sooner. If he had just been a little faster Merlin could be with him now. Outside in the forests around Camelot. Now, he has no clue how Merlin is and is locked inside a cell himself.

The prince sighs, slumping back against the wall and sliding down until he touches the ground. He stares up, seeing a faint light filter through the grate above him. So this was how Merlin had seen him. This was how Merlin had lived everyday for years. How had he been able to survive for so long without going insane? Without having lost his mind to the demons in the shadows? He's only been down here for a few hours and already he finds himself itching to get out. To kick at the bars until he's out and able to run again freely. He feels so trapped in here. So alone.

Arthur wonders where Merlin is now. Is he hurt somewhere? Cowering in fear of the king? Or has he already been killed, left for dead somewhere in the darkness? Arthur drums his fingers against his knees, agitated that he no longer knows where Merlin is. He shouldn't have said those words to his father. He should have held his tongue until he had managed to get Merlin out safe and sound. Now who knows what's happening to him. Anything that does is all his fault.

"Arthur," a voice calls, making the prince look up to find his father standing in front of him, the man must have entered while he wasn't paying attention. There are guards flanking the man's sides and judging from the Kings stare he isn't here to let him go. "I hope you've had time to think about your actions."

The prince turns away, not willing to look at the man in the eyes. "I have thought about it," he says, "And I still think what you have done is wrong."

Uther clenches his teeth, walking closer as he leans over his son. "Has that boy cast a spell on you? What has he done to have you go against your king, your own father?"

"He never did anything because you wouldn't let him. He had no freedom. No rights. He may be a warlock but he's still a person," Arthur snaps through gritted teeth. 

Uther growls low in his throat, the sound menacing like a predator waiting to jump it's prey. There's a burning fire in his eyes. A look that shows he isn't used to such defiance in his subjects. "I will teach you the ways of this world. I'll show you the cruelties that warlocks and sorcerers have brought upon this kingdom. And until you're able to put a blade to that boy's throat you will remain here. Is that understood?"

The prince says nothing. He keeps silent and instead glares at the man he used to call his father. 

The king snarls then turns away, waving to the guards to open the door as he leaves the boy alone. 

-----

"Arthur?" a girl calls quietly, making the prince jolt awake suddenly. Arthur looks up to see Gwen standing in front of his cell door, a plate of bread, cheese, and a cup of water in her hands. "I managed to sneak you some breakfast," she says while passing the food through the bars as best she can. 

Before Arthur can even thank her she smiles and leaves. Leaving him alone with a questioning look. He glances down at the plate of food, feeling guilty that his meal appears much nicer than Merlin's ever was as he shuffles over. He picks up the bread, finding a note underneath. He picks it up, unfolding the parchment and is about to take a large bite of his food when he catches something poking out from the bread. He rips the piece apart only to find three keys inside. One for his door and the other two... He glances down at the note, recognizing the writing from Morgana. 

These are the keys to your cell and Merlin's. Get him out. 

Arthur smiles to himself, not even questioning how Morgana could have gotten those keys. He quickly gets up and looks through the bars for the guards that patrol the halls. When he finds none he quickly opens the door of his cell, sneaking out and rushing to where he remembers seeing Mary open the door to Merlin's cell. 

The prince bursts down the hall as fast as he can, rushing down through the darkness until he reaches the door at the end of the hall once again. He skids to a halt, breathing heavily as he stares at the iron door in front of him. Quickly, before anyone can stop him again, he puts the key into the lock, turning it until he hears the click that sends his heart pounding in his chest. He pushes open the door, rushing in only to find... no one. Nobody's there. 

Arthur stops in the middle of the room, out of breath as he looks around the cell. He's not here. Merlin isn't here. 

The prince drops down to his knees, cursing himself under his breath for not having gotten to him sooner. For not having grabbed the key before coming down here the first time. For not having used his stupid head to figure out that Mary knew where Merlin was. 

He looks up, finding the grate shedding light down into the room from up above. He recognizes the room, even from down here. How could he not after all? He's spent almost everyday in there, talking, laughing, enjoying himself. 

He glances around the room, noticing the little world that Merlin appears to have built down in this cold room. There's piles upon piles of books scattered about. All of which he had brought down for Merlin over the years. There's the first one he had brought. The one about magic. And then one about fish anatomy, mythical creatures, unicorns, and more magic. Then there's all the plants he had brought down. The yellow rose, the tulips, the lilies, all still alive. Somehow, Merlin must have kept them growing with his magic, but now that the warlock isn't here he finds them starting to wither. Starting to shrivel away and die. As Arthur looks around further he finds a pile of cushions by one of the corners. It must have been the bed Merlin made.

Arthur walks over, staring down at everything scattered around the makeshift bed before spotting another flower underneath the pillow. He picks it up, seeing one of the petals fall as he holds it up in front of him. His heart flutters painfully in his chest, feeling excited yet hurt at the sight of the red chrysanthemum slowly dying in his hands. 

He tucks the plant carefully in his pocket before turning to go. Deciding to return to his cell before any of the guards, or worst of all his father, finds out when something flutters into the room.

Arthur smiles, holding out his palm as the blue butterfly drifts down and lands in his hands.

Chapter Text

The blue butterfly appears to shine in the dimness of the cell. It's like a beacon of light, a ray of hope in this world of darkness. The butterfly flutters off the prince's palm, leaving a trail of blue as it heads towards the door and back out the way it came. With one last look at the cell he follows the butterfly, walking close behind as it leads him through the long hall and back out into the dungeons. While the butterfly continues on without a care Arthur stops just by the gate of the cell, peering around the corner as he waits for the guards to pass him by before continuing on.

He follows the butterfly further into the dungeon, occasionally hiding inside an empty cell when the guards pass. The creature only stops once they reach a large, empty room. There's nothing within site. Only stone walls and hay strewn across the floor, but Arthur knows better. He remembers searching in this room a long time ago. He remembers wondering why his father had built the place and wondering what crime a person would have to commit to be locked in a place like this.

He walks over to the pile of hay the butterfly flutters above, the creature swirling around and around in circles as though excited to discover what's underneath. Arthur kneels down and brushes aside the hay, revealing a wooden trapdoor with engravings etched into the surface. He peers through the little grate on the trapdoor and finds nothing but a dark pit that appears to stretch on for an eternity.

The butterfly flutters around his head, it's excitement growing as it twirls between the bars and down into the darkness, leaving a faint trail of blue in it's wake.

"Merlin?" Arthur calls hesitantly, "are you down there?"

"Arthur?" A voice replies weakly. There's a soft chuckle, "I didn't think that would work."

Arthur's heart skips a beat at the sound of the voice down at the bottom of the pit. Merlin's alive. Merlin's here. His hands are shaking, whether with anticipation or with fear he didn't know, but as he grabs at the handle of the trapdoor and tugs he knows one thing for sure. He's getting Merlin out. And this time he won't let anyone stop him. He won't let anyone pull them apart again.

"I'm going to get you out," Arthur says with a tug, "And then we'll run away together. We can go somewhere nice. Somewhere for just the two of us. Somewhere with mountains."

There's a soft chuckle from down below, "A few fields," Merlin continues.

Arthur smiles as he gives another harsh tug, "Wild flowers."

"A couple cows."

"And a lake. A beautiful lake."

There's a quiet laugh that echoes through the pit, the sound helping to calm the prince from his frenzy of useless tugging. "What about your kingdom?" Merlin asks suddenly, "Are you going to leave it?"

Arthur stops for a moment, staring down at the trapdoor with it's strange etchings. Without having to ask he already knows what these cells were made for and he didn't like it. This isn't the Camelot that he had grown to love. This isn't the kingdom that he wanted to be king of.

"I don't know," he says, giving another tug, "I really don't know."

When the trapdoor still won't open the prince gets to his feet. He raises a leg up, kicking down at the wood but sill it holds firm. Arthur curses, slumping down on the ground. Out of breath. What does he do now? He doesn't have the key nor is he willing to risk leaving to go get it. He growls while staring down at the trapdoor. What else can he do to open this damned thing?

His eyes drift over to the etchings on the wood. He scans the markings, assuming that they're used to repress magic. If he alters them then won't Merlin be able to use his magic? With renewed hope the prince grabs one of the loose stones beside him. He starts to carve away at the wood until one of the markings is almost un-recognizable.

"Merlin? Can you use your magic to get out?"

"I've tried already it didn't-"

"Try again."

There's a soft sigh before piercing golden eyes appear from the gloom. As they slowly fade away there's a loud crack before the trapdoor crumbles into pieces, dropping down into the abyss below.

"How-"

Arthur smiles, "I'll explain later but right now are you able to get yourself out with magic?"

"Um... I can try."

There's another glow of gold down in the abyss before suddenly the ground starts to shake. The Earth rumbles beneath the prince's feet as the stones embedded in the dirt start to shift. A makeshift ladder appears against the wall of the hole, made simply from protruding stones. Arthur hears some shuffling and the sound of gravel crunching as the warlock below starts to climb.

As the sound grows closer and closer the prince can feel his heart pounding faster in his chest. His breath hitches in his throat. His legs shake a little when he sees a hand reach out of the darkness and grab at one of the stones. Without being able to wait any longer he leans over the edge, reaching a hand out to grasp the thin wrist below him.

The first thing he realizes as he hauls the boy up is the thinness of his wrists. They feel fragile in his hand, as though if he tugged too hard it would break off entirely. The skin feels rough in his palm, having been covered in dirt and grime for much too long. The colour is pale with numerous patches of brown and grey from the dirt.

With one last tug the boy emerges from the depths and falls into his arms. Arthur's heart jumps when he finally feels the warmth of Merlin's body against his. He wraps his arms around the slim form, holding on as tightly and gently as he can in fear that if he holds on too tightly he would break him. Everything seems to disappear around him. All his problems gone now that Merlin's here, safe in his arms. He didn't care if his father or anyone else finds him here. None of that mattered anymore because they will stay together regardless of where the other goes.

"Merlin..." Arthur whispers, burying his head in the boy's hair.

"Arthur..." he hears the boy say in return, his voice raspy and coarse. The warlock's arms tighten around the prince, pulling him in closer as Merlin cuddles against his chest. There's a small smirk on the boy's face as he mutters the prince's name again and again like it were a chant for good fortune. Which in Merlin's case it is.

Arthur pulls away slightly. Not too far, but just far enough to see his love's face more clearly. There's the bright blue eyes. The ones that remind him so much like the Lake of Avalon. The dark hair that makes him love the night. Merlin even has that neckerchief, tied snugly around his neck.

The prince raises a hand, cupping the side of Merlin's cheek as he takes in everything that is his warlock. He can see Merlin doing the same. The boy's eyes flit about, appearing to not know what to focus on now that the prince is physically in front of him and not up above behind a grate. Eventually his eyes still, choosing to focus on the prince's lips before, much to Arthur's surprise as he had always expected himself to initiate this act, leaning in for a kiss.

The action is shy at first. It's soft, fleeting, just a gentle brush of the lips. But when the warlock pulls back, a blush on his face, and sees the look in Arthur's eyes he leans in again with much more enthusiasm. He can feel Merlin's hand running through his hair, gripping it rather tightly as he pushes in even closer. Arthur, not one to lose in a fight, smirks and pushes back with just as much, if not more, vigour. He holds the boy's waist as he pulls him in, relishing in the warmth of his lips for as long as he can.

Merlin is eventually the first to pull away, his face still flushed a bright red as he stares at the prince's lips. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, muttering quiet apologies for his action under his breath. Arthur though doesn't listen to any of it. He puts a finger to the boy's lips, silencing him with a smile. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the red chrysanthemum he had picked up from Merlin's cell and tucking it gently into the folds of his neckerchief. Close to the warlock's heart. "You don't need to apologize," he says, "I love you, Merlin. I'll always love you with all my heart."

Merlin returns the smile, gently touching the wrinkled petals of the flower before his eyes shine a bright gold. Almost instantly life seems to return. The colour brightens, the stem straightens, and the flower blooms more beautifully than ever. The warlock leans against the prince's chest, a smile against his lips as his hand reaches out to clutch at that of his knight's. "I love you too, Arthur."

The prince smiles, smoothing down Merlin's hair with a hand as they remain cuddled against each other on the floor by the pit. they're silent for a moment, simply basking in the others presence before Merlin decides to speak. "You know," he says, "You're a lot lager than I thought."

"Are you calling me fat?" Arthur asks with a frown.

Merlin laughs, "no, you jut have more... muscle. Not as fun to cuddle."

"Well you're too thin. All I feel is bone."

Merlin pouts, "not my fault you don't feed your prisoners enough."

Arthur chuckles and with one last smile the prince gets to his feet, tugging gently at Merlin's hand to prompt him to do the same. Their hands remain linked as Arthur leads them through the twisting halls of the dungeons, careful not to be spotted by the guards. The prince keeps his grip firm on Merlin's hand, not daring nor wanting to let go. He's been seeking this warmth for a long time. Has been yearning to hold this hand in his own. He wants to remain this way forever with the warlock's hand locked in his, but he knows that eventually he'll have to let go. He needn't worry too much this time though. Because this time he'll be able to find that hand easily and without fear as it'll be right beside him.

Even when they have managed to emerge from the dungeons Arthur keeps his hold. He heads straight for Morgana's chambers, knowing that she would be more than willing to help and that for now, until he can think of a way to get Merlin out, her room is the safest place. The pair pass through the corridors of the castle in a hurry, causing the flames of the torches to ripple with their movement. Arthur continues to pull Merlin along until suddenly he feels a tug against his arm. He stops, turning back to see the warlock with his head turned towards one of the large windows that overlook the forest. His gaze is dreamlike, as though he were looking off into some enchanted world. A world that doesn't exist. He walks over to the window, pulling Arthur with him, and stares out of the glass, taking in everything the scenery has to offer.

"When can we go outside?" Merlin asks, eyes still on the forest.

Arthur looks down at the floor a little sadly. "I'm not sure. But I promise it'll be soon."

Merlin nods, turning away from the window reluctantly as he follows the prince down the hall and towards Morgana's chambers.

------

There's a frantic knock on the door, the sound frightening the maidservant as Morgana sits up on her bed. "Who is it at this hour of the night?" She asks Gwen who only shrugs with a confused look.

"Perhaps a late night suitor coming to woo you?" She jokes with a giggle, heading towards the door.

Morgana rolls her eyes at the remark but still can't help but chuckle at the words. When Gwen opens the door both are surprised to find Arthur rushing in without waiting to be invited. He shuts the door behind him after pulling in another young boy who looks like he desperately needs a bath.

"Arthur?!" Morgana yells, climbing out of bed with a scowl, "what are you doing? It's the middle of the night!"

The prince ignores her for a moment, opening the door slightly to peek through the crack before turning back to the King's ward. "I need you to hide him here. Please," Arthur says, looking to Morgana.

The witch raises an eyebrow, looking to the boy who stares at her and Gwen with a strange sort of fascination and enthusiasm. His eyes flit between them as though he had just met his heroes for the first time. She already knew who the boy was, after all it was she who stole the keys for the prince. But still she kept her excitement at bay until she heard an actual confirmation. She can't stop herself from smiling as Merlin steps forward with a smile on his face.

"It's nice to finally meet you Morgana, Gwen," he says.

Chapter Text

Morgana can hardly believe her eyes when the boy walks up to her shyly, a hand outstretched and a smile on his face. She takes the offered hand, trying to contain the grin spreading across her own face. Gwen is bouncing with joy beside her, not bothering to stop herself from running up to the boy and tackling him with a welcoming hug.

Morgana sends Arthur a mocking smirk, "He has better manners than you," she says teasingly, making the prince sneer at her as she giggles.

Arthur tugs the boy away from the two ladies, wrapping an arm around the lad rather possessively as he eyes the two. "I think this was a bad idea," he says, "you're in more danger here."

"Now, now," Morgana chides, pulling the warlock towards her, "don't be selfish. You can't keep him all to yourself. After all he's our friend too." She can hear the low growl from the prince and the sound makes her want to tease him even more. After all there's nothing more amusing than riling up the selfish royal. "Aren't you supposed to be heading back to your cell soon? We don't want Uther finding out that you've gotten out now do we?" She says with a smirk.

Arthur growls again, sending Merlin a worried glance. "Fine, but first I need to write a letter."

Morgana raises an eyebrow, but doesn't ask any questions as she gestures towards her desk. He sends her a glare as he passes, still muttering something under his breath as he sits down and starts to write. 

As they wait for Arthur to finish, Morgana turns to look at Merlin, watching him with sadness as he wanders about the room, curious about every little thing from a comb to the partition to the mirror. His eyes sparkle at every little thing, amazed with everything that most people wouldn't spare a second glance at. He pokes and prods the items strewn across her room, analyzing everything with a look of wonder like a child in a toy shop. Yet, by far the one thing he's most interested in, is the window, or to be more precise what's past it. He had stopped by the window a few minutes ago and now still he stands there, staring out into the distance. His eyes remain fixated on the trees, the sky, the stars, and the moon. The smile had dropped from his face and instead there's a look of want, of desire that can't be quenched. 

Gwen walks up behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder to shake him from his dream. "You'll get to go out soon," she says, giving him a reassuring smile, "Arthur will bring you out as soon as he finds a safe place for you to go."

Merlin looks to her then back to the window. "When will that be?" he asks.

Gwen turns to Morgana for help.

"A few days. Maybe a week. I don't know," Morgana replies, walking up beside him with a small smile. 

The warlock turns away from the window, looking to her now with a feigned smile of his own as he walks back towards the room to examine some more peculiar things. Morgana watches him go, knowing that there was nothing more that he wanted to do than to go outside. Maybe she can distract him. Take his mind off of it.

"Merlin," she calls, walking over to him before leaning in close to whisper in his ear "can you teach me some magic later? When Gwen and Arthur have left?"

At the word 'magic' the boy's eyes light up. He bounces on his feet, giddy in the idea of being able to teach someone else one of the few joys he has in his life. "So, you've gotten over your fear?" he whispers back with a grin.

She smiles back at him, happy to see him smile again. "Yes, and it's all thanks to you." 

Merlin blushes a little, flattered at the compliment. "I didn't do much," he glances towards Arthur before lowering his voice further,  "Have you managed to tell Arthur yet?"

Her smile drops. That was the one thing she wanted to avoid talking about. "No," she looks to the prince, "not yet. I... I haven't found the right time. There's been so much going on and..."

"You have to tell him soon," Merlin interrupts, "it would only hurt him more if you tell him later."

"But I'm scared! It's not as easy as you make it sound. What if he doesn't accept me?"

"He will. I trust in him."

Morgana looks away, chewing on her lower lip as she continues to doubt the prince. She's known him for a long time and she knows his stance on Uther's policies. But still, there's a chance. There's a chance he could hate her and it was something that she didn't want to risk. Even if she never wants to admit it, she considers the prince a dear friend. A dear friend that she doesn't want to lose. 

"Morgana," she looks up at the sound of her name, meeting Merlin's eyes as he leans in towards her, "you need to tell him. If you need me I'll be there with you. But this is something you have to tell him yourself."

"What are you two whispering about?" Arthur asks, leaning against the chair as he glares in their direction.

Morgana looks to Merlin, seeing him nod his head with encouragement as he ushers her closer to the prince. She can see him mouth the words 'trust him'. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat she takes a step closer to him, averting her gaze. "I..." she says, now looking to Gwen who also stares in curiosity, "I have magic."

Gwen gives a quiet gasp, her hands cupping her mouth as she looks between her and the prince. Arthur remains silent. His eyes have softened, the earlier annoyance in his stare having disappeared, but he doesn't say a word and that might have been worse then if he had said something. 

Morgana waits for his response, feeling a bit more confident in his reaction after his slight change in demeanour, but as time goes on and still the prince says nothing she begins to worry again. She looks to Merlin, needing him to reassure her that everything will be alright but all he does is shake his head in confusion. 

She looks back to Arthur, only to find that he's turned back to the parchment on the table and is continuing to scribble across the page. In another minute he gets up from his seat, handing the folded letter to Gwen. "Take this to Gaius. He'll know where to send it," he says.

The maid nods and rushes from the room, looking a little relieved to leave for the time being. 

"Um... Arthur?" Merlin calls, walking up to the prince, "What-"

The prince brushes past him, his eyes trained down on the floor. "I need you both to pack. Be prepared to leave Camelot before the end of the week."

With those final words he walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him as he heads back to his cell. 

-----

Arthur shuts the door of his cell, stretching his arm through the bars to lock the gate before turning back to lean against the wall. Morgana has magic. She's a sorceress. A witch. Just like Merlin.

The words sound foreign in his head. Morgana, Uther's ward, has magic? He doesn't want to believe what she had said. Wants to think that it was all a joke. But why would she pull a prank like that? Especially at such a time. Morgana may be evil, but even she has her limits. He regrets not having said more. Not having told her that he was alright with it. That he understands and won't turn her away because of it. It had just been too much of a shock to him. The words had caught him off guard. Had broken down his defences all too easily. He'll tell her the next time he sees her. He'll tell her then.

He sighs, looking up at the little grate above him that leads out into the courtyard. Hopefully, the letters will reach the druids soon. The faster he can get the two of them out of Camelot the better. And as for himself... he looks over to the bars, finding his father standing in front of him with his arms behind his back. 

Maybe he can still change his father's heart. 

"I hope this time you will give me a better answer," the king says in his usual commanding voice. 

Arthur scowls, "I've already given the best answer."

The king sighs, pacing back and forth along the hall as he regards his son with eyes of steel. "What can I do to make you see sense?"

"And what can I do to make you see sense?" Arthur retorts.

Uther stops in his tracks, turning to glare at his son. "Need I remind you that magic is what killed your mother? What almost killed you?"

"It wasn't magic that killed mother. It was the evildoings of a person like you or I."

"And it was magic that corrupted them," Uther snaps, "had they not dabbled in the dark arts perhaps they would have grown to be a sensible farmer. Power had driven them mad. It encouraged their selfish tendencies and look what was lost because of it."

"I think power has driven you mad, father. All this... the purge, the hatred, didn't it all come from your own selfishness? You didn't want to take the blame so you pushed it on someone else."

Uther takes a step closer to the bars, "Are you saying that I was to blame for your mother's death?"

"I never said that. But you have used magic as a convenient excuse for everything that goes wrong in this kingdom, for everything that doesn't go your way. You've blamed bad harvests on magic. Attacks on merchant carts. My disobedience. Everything. You never consider the sorcerers who have to suffer because of what you say. You only think of yourself." 

The king's lips curl up into a snarl, but no words come out of his mouth. He doesn't know what to say. Can't find the words that would disapprove his son's claims. Arthur stares back at him with his chin held high, a look of superiority that seems to tell the king that he has lost.

Uther is only saved from further humiliation by the appearance of one of the guards. "Your highness," the guard says, rushing over. 

The king turns away from the cell, "what?" he demands in a cold tone, sending shivers up the guards spine as he backs away slightly. 

"The sorcerer has escaped, sire. He's-he's not in his cell."

Uther turns to Arthur, eyes narrowed in anger as the prince stares back with a look of equal intensity. "Search the castle. I want every room searched! Go!" the king shouts in a rage, ushering the guard away with a hand. He turns back to the prince, knowing that his son must have helped in the escape in one way or another. "I suggest you tell me now where that boy is if you value your life."

Arthur says nothing, just turns his head away and picks at the rocks on the ground as though they deserved more attention than the king that stands before him. The king growls, turning away and stalks down the hall like a predator hunting its prey.

-----

Morgana focuses on the pitcher in front of her, trying to will the energy inside to grasp onto the handle. She feels the tendrils of magic around her, can feel the power at her fingertips as she concentrates on the pitcher. With one final tug she sees it shift on the table. A subtle movement. Yet a movement nonetheless. 

She looks towards Merlin, now cleaned and dressed in a new set of clothes, with a smile, proud at her achievement even if it is only shifting the pitcher. The warlock returns the smile with one of his own, patting her on the back as he gets to his feet to pour himself another cup of water. "You're getting better," he says, "I'm sure if you practice some more you'll do it. You have talent."

Morgana blushes a little at the compliment. "Thank you, though I'm sure I would learn faster if you were able to give me some more tips."

Merlin downs his drink before answering. "I'm sorry. Moving objects with magic has always come naturally to me. I don't know how to help."

Morgana giggles, "Don't worry. I'm only teasing you."

The warlock smiles while popping a few grapes in his mouth. "I'm sorry," he suddenly says, swallowing the food, "I know it's rude to eat when we're talking. My mother used to always tell me that."

She pushes the plate closer to him, "It's alright. I know you haven't eaten much. Take as much as you want."

Merlin grins, eating a few more before there's a knock on the chamber door. "My lady? Are you in?"

Immediately, the warlock stumbles over to the wardrobe. Morgana ushers him in quickly, shoving the boy inside and shutting the door without a second to waste. She smoothes down her dress, making sure she looked presentable before strolling over to the door with a calm expression. "Yes?" she calls, opening the door, "Oh, Sir Leon, is something the matter?"

"I'm afraid we have to search your chambers, my lady," the knight says with a bow.

"Why? What's happened?" She asks, feigning innocence. 

"There's a rogue sorcerer. We know you've done nothing wrong but the king ordered us to check every room."

She sighs, pushing aside the door for the guards to enter, afraid that if she refuses that would only arose more suspicion. "Then please, be quick. I have some personal matters I still need to attend to."

Leon bows, "Of course, my lady." 

The knights file in, starting to pick their way through her room without much effort. They give it a quick scan, looking behind the partition, behind the curtains, under the bed. Nothing too thorough. Just as the men are about to leave she catches Sir Leon walking up to the wardrobe, inspecting it for a moment before reaching for the handle. She starts to sweat, knowing that if he opens those doors that there is no doubt he would see Merlin inside. "Now, now, Sir Leon," she says with a teasing lilt in her voice, "trying to search through a woman's wardrobe are we? Can't you give a lady some privacy?"

Leon blushes slightly and a few of the other knights chuckle behind him before returning to their own inspection of the room. "I-I'm sorry for invading your privacy, my lady, but I just need to make a quick check." 

Morgana says nothing more, knowing that saying any other words would arose further suspicion. Yet, if she doesn't say anything, Merlin will be found anyway. "Wait, Sir Leon-"

"It's protocol. I'll be quick." He says before opening the doors to the wardrobe. 

Chapter Text

Merlin watches through the slit of the wardrobe, eyes following the red clad knights as they search through the room. His whole body trembles, not from fear but anger. Hatred. An emotion that he has buried away for a long time and yet one that he still welcomes with open arms. The allure of it is too great. Too strong. The promises that are whispered into his ears as he watches those men stalk back and forth are too tempting.

His hands grip tightly at the dresses around him, causing the fabric to crease and fold under his hold. As the men continue to shuffle about, oblivious, the warlock's stare bores into their backs like a demon hunting for its next meal. Magic stirs throughout the wardrobe, causing the dresses to dance with his power and the wood to creak at the pressure. His magic urges him to reach out, to show those men a taste of his strength. A taste of what they had done to his mother and father. Of what they had done to him. He wants to tear those capes off their shoulders, use it to strangle them where they stand. He wants to drive their own blade through their chests and dye that haunting cape an even deeper scarlet.

When one of the men, a blond with curly hair and a light beard, appears in his line of sight and starts to approach his magic flares with glee. An opportunity. A victim.

He hears Morgana trying to stop him, hears her teasing remarks and silently he wishes for her to stop. To let the man open the wardrobe. To let him see. To give his magic an excuse to attack. So, when he finds the crack before him enlarging, growing in size as the doors are opened his magic surges up from the depths. His eyes glow golden and when the man's face appears in front of him, looking confused he prepares to lash out. To release all the pent up energy and hatred inside of him at the poor knight who had the misfortune of opening the wardrobe doors, but something stops him. A look. A pair of eyes. Ones that don't stare at him in fear or disgust, but ones that stare at him with a look of sympathy. Apparent understanding.

His magic subsides, the golden glow in his irises dimming as the man stares at him for a moment longer. This man isn't bad. He doesn't mean any harm. Just because he wears that cape does not mean that he will hurt him. The knight seems to see the slight shift in his mood and gives him a small smile before shutting the doors of the wardrobe. "Come on," he says, turning away and waving at the other knights, "we have plenty of other rooms to search."

The knights clear out and after waiting another moment Merlin peers out from his hiding spot, just slightly.

"Thank you, Leon," he hears Morgana say, giving the man a warm hug, "but why?"

The man, Leon, scratches the back of his head, "Well," he says, "I trust Arthur and I trust you. If you are both willing to risk your lives to hide him then... he must not be as bad as the king claims."

Morgana gives him another smile before he turns to leave, shutting the door gently behind him. Merlin crawls out from his hiding space right after, shivering and trembling from the mad rush that had enveloped him only minutes before.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. And out.

His heart starts to calm it's rhythmic pounding, slowing to its usual pace as he sits down in one of the chairs. His arms move up to wrap around himself, clutching tightly as they still shake. He knows what he had tried to do to those men were wrong. That the thoughts in his head are no better than that of the king. But still he couldn't help himself. Couldn't stop the whispers in his head as they urged him on. Chanted for him to exact his revenge on all those that bear the Pendragon crest.

And he realizes that deep down he regrets not allowing his magic to tear those men to shreds.

------

The dungeons are silent for a few days before the king returns. He's fuming as he follows the twisting paths and stops in front of the cell that he's grown all too familiar with. He knocks against the bars, jolting his son awake from his slumber. The prince glares up at his father, eyes narrowed in defiance. Uther stares back with an equally intimidating glare, not willing to back down to anyone. Especially not to his own son. "I will give you one last chance," Uther says in a commanding tone, "tell me where you have hidden that sorcerer and perhaps I will reconsider your punishment."

"I won't betray him to save myself. A king should always put his people before their own life," Arthur says.

"Not when they're sorcerers. That lad deserves none of your kindness. He has done nothing for you. In a few years he'll return to kill you and take your throne."

"I know Merlin and he would never do such a thing."

The king scoffs, "A naive and foolish thought. If you continue to think in such a manner this kingdom is doomed."

Arthur's fists clench at his sides. For years now he has sought his father's approval. He has done everything he can to make his father proud and to let him know that his kingdom is in good hands. Yet, it seems his father has seen none of it. All that man cares about is his hatred for magic. "If you don't change your narrow-minded views then this kingdom is already doomed."

The king lurches forward, appearing as though he were attempting to reach his arms through the bars to strangle the young prince, but he stops himself. He grasps onto the bars, leaning in close as he growls through his teeth, "If you continue to refuse to obey then you leave me with no choice," the king takes in a deep breath, his face turning cold and stoic. Arthur shivers at the sight. He recognizes that look. "Arthur Pendragon, I hear by sentence you to death by beheading."

Arthur can only stare in wide eyed disbelief as his father turns away from him, not bothering to look his son in the eyes. The prince launches forwards, hands gripping at the bars until his knuckles turned white. His voice quivers as the fear starts to take over, as it begins to consume his mind and twist everything around him. He finds the words fumbling in his mouth as he tries to speak. "Y-you can't be serious," he says, voice sounding much higher than normal.

The king scoffs. "I gave you a warning and you chose not to heed it. If you are willing to hand over that Merlin boy than I will repeal the sentence."

Arthur swallows the lump in his throat. He tries to calm himself, to stop his voice from shaking as he looks at the king with resolve. "No. That is the one thing I will never do."

The king scowls, "then you will die tomorrow."

"Then you'll have no heir. Is that alright with you? There will be no one to continue your legacy."

The king just smirks, "I have another heir. And I know she'll do a much better job."

As the king walks away with his head held high Arthur can only stare in stunned silence as one name comes to mind. The name of the one person his father appeared to ever care about.

Morgana.

-----

There's a knock against the chamber door and Morgana leaps to her feet immediately at the sound. Again she ushers Merlin towards the wardrobe while Gwen quickly pretends to dust the mantle, no one knowing who could be on the other side. Perhaps Leon had told the knights. Or maybe someone had grown suspicious of her sudden increase in appetite. Whatever the reason she keeps her guard up as she opens the door with a smile. What she finds on the other side catches her by surprise and she can't tell whether it's better or worse. There's Arthur standing at the door, shoulders hunched and eyes rimmed with red as though he hasn't slept in days. He staggers in and kicks the door shut behind him.

"Are you both ready to leave?" he asks, settling down in one of the chairs, voice devoid of all emotion.

At the sound of the prince's voice Merlin emerges from the wardrobe, a wide grin on his face as he launches at his lover. Arthur smiles at the sight, the weariness fading as he wraps his arms around the boy and holds him tight to his chest. His shoulders relax at the warlock's touch, his eyes seem a little brighter and his expression softer, the hardened lines of stress gone. He pulls back a little, only loosening his grip enough so that he could see the boy's face. Merlin smiles at him, a childish grin that warms the prince's heart. It makes him think that everything he's done so far is worth it. That everything he's about to do is worth it as long as that carefree grin can stay on the warlock's - no, all sorcerers - faces from here on out. Arthur returns the smile, trying to hide the weariness in his movements as he leans in to give the boy a quick peck on the lips. Merlin shuffles back a little, face red with embarrassment as he looks to Morgana and Gwen behind him. Gwen just sends him a sweet smile while Morgana sighs, shaking her head a little as she walks over to the two with her arms crossed. "If you just came here for a kiss then I would have preferred if you continued this in the wardrobe where I can't see," she says though there is still a playful smirk on her face.

Arthur sighs, letting go of Merlin as he rummages in his pockets for the folded up letter Gaius had delivered to him that morning. He hands it over to Morgana, giving her a chance to read the words while Merlin and Gwen look over her shoulder. When she finally finishes she sets the parchment down on the table, turning her gaze up to the prince who is now standing by the window, staring out into the courtyard. "You're sending us to the Druids?" she asks.

Arthur turns to face her. "It's the only place that I know where both of you can be kept safe," he says, "I was only going to send Merlin there before but after your earlier... revelation I decided that it would be best for you to go as well. They can teach you, help you learn to control your magic and-" He stop himself before he can say anymore. He doesn't need to tell her about what his father - their father - had said. She already has enough on her mind.

Morgana doesn't reply. She looks down at the letter, knowing that this is going to be the best outcome she could get. After all what could she gain from staying in Camelot? She can hide and only hide. Uther would never allow her to practice magic nor would he be pleased to hear that his ward is a witch. The safest option for her is to disappear. To leave and learn how to control the power within her.

"Are you not coming?" Merlin asks, his voice quiet as he glances down at the letter then up to the prince. "The letter only mentions Morgana and I. Does that mean you aren't coming?"

Arthur turns his gaze away, knowing that if he stares at those eyes any longer he would give in. "No," he says with resolve, trying to keep his voice from wavering, "No I'm not." He risks a glance back towards Merlin and the look he finds on the warlock's face is almost enough to make him take back his words. He can't tear his gaze away. Those sorrow filled eyes lock him into place, keeping him grounded as the boy stares at him with a look that seems to convey everything all at once. He can see the worry that wretches at his heart, the pain of needing to let the prince go, and the desperation from wanting to keep the prince there at his side regardless of what anyone else says.

A warm hand grasps his, their fingers interlacing together. The warmth is comforting and the feel of the other hand in his own keeps him from shaking. He looks to Merlin beside him who has his head down as he stares at their entwined hands. "Do you have to stay?" He asks, his grip tightening at the words.

Arthur averts his gaze, trying to pull his hand away but Merlin holds firm, refusing to let go. "I need to. This kingdom won't change without me," the prince says.

Merlin tightens his grip further. "No! You're coming with us! I'm not losing you. I'm not letting you go!" He clutches onto the prince's arm, hugging it like a lifeline and perhaps to the boy it was. For years now he's been locked away in that cell. For years he's been kept away from everything he holds dear. It's only natural for him now to want to hold on to everything around him. To keep it safe right by his side.

Arthur knows this as he stares at the boy beside him, shaking with fear and worry as he clings to the man he loves. He reaches a hand out, wanting to agree. Wanting to take the warlock's other hand and hold on for dear life. But he looks around him. He looks at the people wandering about outside, their fear of magic lingering over them like a spell stronger than any a real sorcerer could conjure up. Then he looks to Morgana. She's only just discovered her magic but like Merlin she never had a choice. She didn't choose to practice magic and he knows she would never use it for selfish purposes. He wants to protect her. Wants her to be able to live in a kingdom where she can be accepted for who she is. And who else is there that can change that but him? If Uther discovers that Morgana is a witch he would have her burned at the stake.

Lastly he looks back down at Merlin, at the boy who his father had kept locked away. He wants to give him his life back. Return his freedom, his magic, his happiness, everything. He wants to show the warlock the world. Wants to show him all the things he was never able to before. He'll take him out to see the forest, the lake, the lower town, all the townspeople, and maybe, if they're lucky, he'll finally show Merlin what a unicorn is.

Arthur raises a hand, running it gently through the warlock's hair as he smiles at him. He moves the hand down, caressing the side of his face until his hand comes to rest by his cheek. The prince leans in, planting a kiss on the boy's lips. He wants to memorize the feel. To implant it in his memory forever. He keeps their hands entwined, holding it close to their hearts.

Eventually, he pulls away. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay," he whispers and gently he untwines their fingers and, with a smile, lets go.

Chapter Text

Arthur waits in his cell, staring down at the flower that Merlin had returned to him before he left. The red chrysanthemum continues to bloom brightly, seeming to light up the dim cell despite all the shadows that surround him. The prince clutches it tight in his hands, the flower reminding him of times long gone. Of better days where nothing seemed to matter. Where his most difficult problem was finding a way into the cell beyond the grate. Now he sits in a cell of his own, waiting for the time when the drums sound and the guards arrive at the gate. Ready to bring him out and face the executioner. He wonders if his father will watch. If the man has lost all sense and has now learned to find pleasure in killing his own loved ones. Then again, who's to say his father ever loved him?

Noon comes and the rhythmic pounding of the drums resound across the castle. The guards appear at the gate, looking sullen and nervous as they unlock the door, reach in, and pull out their prince. Their grip is loose as they guide him through the halls, as though hoping that perhaps, just maybe, he'll try and escape. That he'll shake off the guards and run as most prisoners try to do. And then when he runs they'll pretend he was too strong. That he knocked them down and they couldn't give chase. But, true to the prince they all know he continues on, even stopping once to scold them on their lack of caution around a prisoner. About how dangerous that could be and the risk they take with their lives with such negligence. He is indeed a most kind prince. A man that truly deserves to be king. So why are they bringing him to the executioner now? As though he is nothing more than a common criminal?

When prince Arthur appears from the doors of the dungeon the people gathered around the raised platform in the courtyard let out a collective gasp. The crowd parts for him and some even bow as he passes through, seeming to forget for a moment that it is he that is to be killed. That it is he who is the criminal today. As he's pushed to his knees before his people a strange sense of wrongness emanates through the crowd. After all, is it not them that should kneel before their prince? Especially before one as fair and just as their own prince Arthur?

As the executioner steps up onto the stand, axe hoisted upon his shoulder, a sense of guilt begins to bear him down like he's been forced to carry Atlas' burden of the sky. He's brought down justice on dozens of men and women. Has killed all sorts with the very axe he holds in his hands and has never felt a shred of guilt. It's because he has always trusted in his king. He trusted that whomever approached him on his stand deserved to die. That those men that stepped up were no good criminals who would only hurt more if they were allowed to live. And yet, here comes a man that he trusts too. The prince who he swore he would devote his life to once the king had passed. Why did he kneel here now? Why must he bring down his axe on the prince he trusts as much as his king?

-------

Merlin rubs at his eyes, feeling the tiredness begin to settle in after a whole night of tossing and turning. His mind had been filled with Arthur the entire time, having felt both worried and angry at the prince. After everything they had done together he would have thought that Arthur trusted him enough to confide in him with his problems. But still the man kept it to himself and that worried the warlock to no end. He wants to know what's wrong. Wants to help and at the very least be by his side. Yet what does Arthur decide to do instead? He chooses to send him away. Send him somewhere where he can't help.

Merlin glances at his surroundings. There's a row of wooden houses, much larger than the ones he remembers from home, lining his left and right. People flood the streets around him, crowding him against Morgana and Gwen who walk along side him. They all seem busy with their own respective tasks, most paying them no mind as they squeeze through the crowd in order to reach a market stall or a shop. Compared to the eerie quiet of his cell the bustling atmosphere is refreshing. Yet, even though he has finally escaped from his cell he finds no happiness from the sights and smells of the town. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel right because Arthur isn't here beside him.

They stop by the edge of town, waiting by the gates for the Druid who had been sent to meet them. Gwen clings to Morgana, crying as she tells her how much she'll miss her while the latter comforts her the best she can. Merlin keeps to himself, leaning against one of the fence posts as he stares off into the distance at the castle. He wonders where Arthur is. Wonders if the prince is safe and unharmed. He wants to see him again already and it hasn't even been more than half a day. How is he going to last months - even years - without him? He never realized how much he needed the prince's company until he's gone.

"Where's everybody going?" Gwen suddenly asks, looking towards the path to the castle where large crowds are streaming towards the gates. "Is there something happening in the courtyard today?" she asks, turning to Morgana who is squinting into the distance with a look of worry.

"Another execution perhaps? A few criminals had been put on trial recently," she says, turning away to search for the Druid and the subject drops.

A few minutes later the Druid appears, green cloak over his shoulders as he approaches with a warm smile. The man has a kindly face and white, curly hair. He seems to radiate an aura of gentleness as he nods at the three. "Ah, you must be Morgana and Merlin. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Iseldir," the man says with a slight bow.

Merlin hides behind Morgana, feeling nervous at the presence of the new stranger. His mind clouds, obscuring his thinking as he looks the man up and down. What does he say? Should he bow too? Is he supposed to greet him or what? He doesn't know what to do! He's only ever spoken to Arthur, Morgana, or Gwen! He hides a little further behind Morgana, which doesn't work too well due to his height, but he's still grateful to having at least something to disappear partially behind. Gwen puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering into his ear that it'll be alright while Morgana speaks with the man.

"You're the... Druid," she says the last word quietly, "that Arthur sent for?"

"Indeed I am. We all owe the prince a favour after he spared our lives," he says, "we will keep you hidden and help you master your talents until he deems it safe for you both to return."

Merlin smiles a little at the words. So these are the Druids that Arthur had saved. He feels a bit of pride stirring in his chest. He had placed his trust in the right man after all.

"Now come," the man says, gesturing to them, "we must go now. The longer we dwell here the more dangerous it is."

Gwen gives Morgana and Merlin one last hug before sending them off, a smile on her face as she promises to watch over Arthur for them while they're gone. The pair give one last wave before disappearing beyond the gate, Morgana with tears in her eyes and Merlin with his still trained on the castle in the distance where his prince waits. Neither notice until much later a certain blond, curly haired knight racing towards them with a look of utter fear and terror in his eyes. 

-------

The king steps out onto the balcony that overlooks the courtyard. His eyes scan the crowd, seeing the somewhat horrified and curious faces of his people. A few notice his presence and turn their attention to him, eyes filled with fright as they await their king with dismay. The rest though, appear to have failed to notice the king. Their eyes remain on the prince, the one who waits patiently on the stand, back turned to the king and his head bowed low.

"Let this be a warning to you all," the king begins, his voice echoing off the walls of the castle and making all heads turn in his direction, "that I show no mercy for any crime that involves sorcery. And to show you all the power of corruption which magic holds I want you all to bear witness to today's execution for even my own son, Arthur Pendragon, has become tainted by sorcery." A gasp ripples through the crowd, the noise steadily growing and growing as the people begin to murmur amongst themselves. Questions are thrown across the air. Questions about how, what, and why. The king scans the crowd for a moment before gently raising his hand. The chatter dies down, the voices ceasing as they wait for their king to answer them.  

Uther looks down towards the prince and Arthur shivers at the piercing stare. Even if he can't see his father's face. He can feel it. Feel the hatred that emanates off the man. The hatred that today is directed straight at him. He shifts in his spot, knees already aching from the hard wood. He can sense the headsman standing over him, axe in hand as he waits for the king's orders.

"My son was found conspiring with sorcerers. He has betrayed us all. Committed an act of treason. This is what magic does. It corrupts. It turns friend on friend. Brother on brother. A son on his father. This is why we must remain vigilant. We must continue our fight until the day we can all live without fear of this danger known as magic. Now, Arthur, I give you one last chance. Repent now or face the headsmen's axe."

Arthur keeps his head down, his body shaking now as the time approaches. A part of him wants to repent. To apologize to his father. To save himself. He doesn't want to die. No one wants to die. What does he owe to the sorcerers? They have done nothing for him. He should give this up. Say he's sorry and have everything return to the way things are. Yet, as his eyes train down onto the chopping block where hundreds, maybe even thousands, of sorcerers have died he can't bring himself to say the words. How many had his father sentenced? How old were they? What lives did they used to lead before the king found them? He thinks about Merlin. About what his family must have been like. About the happiness that was ripped away from them because of the senseless crusades of one man.

The prince looks up, eyes meeting those of the people in front of him, of the guards who have turned their heads back to see him, of the executioner who stands just at the corner of his vision. He can see something in all their gazes, a silent question that seems to ask: is this true? The trust that remains in their eyes even as he kneels, now like a common criminal, before the headsman's axe reminds him of what Merlin had said about how he trusted him and believed in him. All these people before him think the same. They have placed their trust in him and it's about time that he does the same.

His body stills as the fear starts to disappear. He feels calmer. More sure of his answer. He straightens his back, keeps his head held high as he looks over his people and they all return his gaze. Their eyes are trained on him, stuck to the golden prince who can still glow with a radiance that none could match even as he kneels before the chopping block. "I stand by my actions," he says, making his voice loud and clear for all to hear for there will be no more mistakes, no more turning back. This is what he stands by and he won't let anyone claim otherwise. "It's true that I consorted with a warlock. I have gone against our laws, but I assure you all that I had done nothing that would endanger the lives of any of you here. I would never willingly harm any citizen of this kingdom, that is something I have long ago sworn to myself, and in my eyes that promise extends to everyone. Sorcerers included. I befriended a warlock and it is thanks to his friendship that I am the man I became today. I continued to speak with him because I knew he would never do ill. He taught me many things that I never would have learned without him and for that I'm grateful. He encouraged me to make my own choices and to base them on the experiences that I had and that is what I've done. I have broken the spell of hatred. I thought for myself and I made my choice. If you still wish to end my life, father, then so be it, continue this senseless purge, but know that your hatred and cruelty will be your end."

He doesn't turn to face the king, instead he remains facing forward, eyes staring off into the far distance. All the way past the lower town and through the gates, all the way to the young warlock who is waiting for him and now will have to forever wait until the end of time for his prince to return. 

The people in the crowd can see the seething hatred setting into the king. His face turns red, his eyes are narrowed into slits as his fists clench beside him. He raises a hand then brings it down. The signal. The end.

The headsman pushes the prince down, positioning his head against the chopping block and readies his axe. Arthur closes his eyes. Taking in a deep breath. Smelling the air. Hearing the sounds. He tries to steady his heart. Tries to prepare himself for the inevitable, but he just can't. After all, how does one prepare for death? His hands still clings onto the flower, clings to the red chrysanthemum that Merlin had given him. It's the one thing that he can't let go. The one thing that he regrets. 

When he hears the executioner raise his axe, hoisting it up over his head as the people begin to shriek, he feels a wetness against his cheeks. He tries to stop the tears. Tries to force them back because he had vowed until the day he died that he would be the prince of this kingdom and a prince should not cry. But as he looks up towards the front gate, towards where Merlin now stands with his eyes wide in horror, he can't stop the tears from flowing. Because to Merlin he isn't just a prince. To Merlin he's Arthur. And as Arthur he's allowed to cry. He's allowed to show his fear. 

Chapter Text

Merlin stops as soon as the stand comes into view. There's the executioner, axe up in the air as he hovers over his latest victim and then there's Arthur, the shamed prince who now kneels before his people, head atop the chopping block like a traitor. He notices the prince look up, spotting him amongst the crowd and even from this distance Merlin can see the regret in his eyes. The look that seems to tell him I'm sorry for everything. The warlock forces himself to take a step forward as tears form in Arthur's eyes, as they stream down his cheeks and drip down off his chin. He wants to reach out, to hold him tight and bring him into an embrace to tell him that it's alright. That he's forgiven. That he has done all he needs.

But he can't. He can't move. Can't feel his arms or legs as he stands there by the gate, shocked into stillness. The headsman shifts and the axe beings to sway, yet the numbness continues to plague him. He lifts a trembling hand up with much effort, trying in vain to channel his magic towards the stand, but his powers continue to allude him. He grabs at the wisps, pulling at them only for them to disappear and reappear elsewhere that he can't reach. They feel chaotic inside him, like a wild deer that has just spotted the hunter. They run from his grasp, refusing to obey him. Refusing to do as he wishes. The more his magic runs the more his frustration grows, and the more it grows the more hectic his magic becomes. It's a never-ending cycle. One that grows worse and worse the more he tries. And so, he stops. He stops chasing his magic. Stops trying to grab something that isn't there. Instead he runs forward, weaving his way through the crowd just as the executioner prepares to swing.

He won't make it. He's not going to make it.

But while the warlock had been struggling with his magic the people had been struggling too. Their minds fought within itself. Two sides wrestling one another for dominance. They had been left with a choice that rivalled no other and they had been left with little time to pick the right one. On one side was their prince, the man who they had watched learn and grow, the one who presented a new hope, who held the potential to make a greater Camelot. But on the other was their king. The king who held the most powerful weapon of all, the power known as fear. And the people did fear him. They cowered against the glare of their king. Cowered at the cruelty which allowed his conscience to execute his own son. They feared him and were reluctant to disobey. Yet, when they looked to the prince before them all they could see was the same fear reflected in his eyes. Their prince was afraid and despite it he had done what should have been done. He had kept his morals, his beliefs, and his values. He fought for what he thought was right and was willing to die for it. A man like that did not deserve to die. A man like that deserved to be king. And the people should follow the king's example.

As the executioner prepares to swing the crowd's gaze hardens. They surge forward all at once, pushing and shoving against the guards who for a moment are too stunned to do anything. They are pushed back against the force, stumbling before regaining their footing and holding their position firm with weapons brandished, but as the crowd continues to push, shouting for their prince they look to one another then back towards Arthur and realize that they too do not wish the prince to die. So, they let the spears drop to the ground, let the people push past them as they wish and charge up to the stands.

When the people near the stand they find the executioner swinging his axe downwards. Many stop in their tracks, gasping in horror or covering their eyes at the gruesome show that is to come, but a few press on. They are determined to keep going until either they have saved their prince or the head of Arthur Pendragon rolls across the ground. Merlin charges ahead of the rest, having been spurred on after seeing the love that all the kingdom shares for the prince, and races towards the stand. He grabs onto the edge, lifting himself up until he's face to face with the man he loves. Arthur smiles at him and Merlin returns the grin, but the happiness is short lived. The warlock looks up to see the axe come down, the eyes of the headsman staring into his as the loud thunk of the blade hitting its mark echoes across the courtyard.

The crowd stops. The shouting dies down and the king grins. A few have their mouths covered while others stare at the stand in stunned silence. Morgana and Gwen are buried in the centre of the crowd, with Leon not far behind, trying to spot the prince and their friend over the heads of the other onlookers. Merlin still has his gaze on the headsman who now makes his way to the warlock, leaving his axe abandoned in the wood of the stand just beside the prince's head. The headsman smiles at the boy, kneeling down to pat him on the head as he helps a rather frightened Arthur to his feet. The prince stumbles a little, unsteady after the rush of adrenaline from being so near to death. The headsman cut the ropes that bind his wrists with a dagger before turning to face the king who, after seeing that Arthur was alive, has a scowl set across his face.

The executioner bows his head slightly but does not kneel as he looks up to the king. "I cannot execute this man," he says, projecting his voice out to the crowd, "for he has done no wrong and I will not kill an innocent man in cold blood."

Uther sneers at the executioner, "Have you no ears? I said he has broken the laws of this kingdom and the greatest one of them all. He has committed treason by consorting with sorcerers. Therefore he is to be sentenced to death!"

When the executioner still does not move Uther can only fume at the behaviour. He turns to the guards now, who stiffen as his eyes land on them. "Arrest him!" he shouts, gesturing towards the stands. A few turn to look while others shuffle slightly in their spots, but none move. They remain where they are, weapons abandoned on the grounds as they watch their old king.

Uther staggers back as he meets the faces of the crowd. Many have a look of disgust in their eyes. Disgust at having had a king who would dare to do such a thing. Disgust for all that he has done and all that they have allowed him to do. Morgana is among them. She had once looked up to the king. Had understood to some extent as to why he would hate sorcerers, but it has gone on for long enough. It's about time for the purge to end. She glares at the man, and even from such a distance Uther is able to pick her out from the crowd, can see the disgust and hate in her eyes as she regards the disgraced man. Others gaze at him with disappointment, feeling as though they have been robbed of the peace and prosperity they were promised by this same man a long, long time ago. They are ashamed now to look upon him. To see what he has become. Leon has to look away from the king that he had served since a child. He keeps his eyes on the prince instead, choosing to occupy his mind with something - anything - else. A few stare with pity. Uther Pendragon had once been a heroic man. One who had saved the common people from the terrors of evil sorcery, but now, as they look upon him, all they see is a madman. One who has long ago had his mind consumed by fear and hatred. Gwen stares at him with such a look, remembering the stories of the brave King Uther who killed the dragons. She had admired his courage, but now he's nothing but a coward.

Despite all the eyes on him, all the emotions that his actions have managed to fester in the people there is only one pair of eyes that manage to send the mad king stumbling backwards in terror. The young warlock now stands beside his prince, eyes turned towards the king that he has only just noticed is standing up in the balcony. Merlin's gaze grows cold. He remembers those eyes, remembers the disgust in them as they regarded his family. Even now, after so many years, the memory is still fresh in his mind. It has been seared into his brain, left their like a permanent scar that none can see but he will always feel. He feels it now, feels it as fresh as ever like it had just been cut into his brain. The more he stares the larger the wound opens, releasing all the sin and atrocities he had wished to commit against the man that stands there now. He had buried such thoughts deep in his mind for a long time now. They had no use coming out back then. After all, he had no hope in that cell, no chance of escape, and so they were left as what they were: nothing but hopeless fantasies. His thoughts used to wander to other things; things that he could learn; things like the boy beyond the grate, but now, when he's out, when there is no longer those iron bars holding him back his mind goes wild. All those dark whispers in his head return with full force except now they are no longer whispers, but screams. They shout in his head, telling him to go, telling him that this is his chance. His magic stirs once again, reviving from the depths as though wanting to redeem itself from it's earlier mishap.

Merlin grabs at the magic, harnessing it's power as he looks to the king. Uther staggers in his spot, but keeps hold of the railing as though still trying to hold onto what small shred of authority he has left. The warlock's eyes glow gold and with a gentle flick of his wrist he sends the king spiralling backwards against the stone. He doesn't use too much force. Simply a gentle nudge. Something to get the man moving. To get him to run off alone.

Sure enough the king staggers to his feet. He glares at the warlock, at the people, at the guards, at the executioner, and at his son. He glares at them all one last time before turning his back preparing to leave, but as soon as the king turns around shouts ring out around the courtyard. There are angry cries for justice and for redemption. They want the king to pay. To step down from his throne. To leave and never return. The king ignores them all. He scowls instead, still looking down on the people as he disappears into the castle more furious than ever.

Arthur watches his father go, disappointed at the man that he has become when the stand suddenly shakes from the mad rush of the crowd. The people storm towards the castle, fists raised in the air as they shout for Uther's head. The guards do nothing to stop them and instead let them pass, because they too no longer wish to serve a mad king.

The prince looks about in worry as the people storm the citadel, failing to notice Merlin slip away, disappearing into the castle with his eyes set on one goal ahead.

-----

The warlock walks through the castle, his boots echoing across the empty corridors as he follows the traces of magic he had left behind on the king when he attacked earlier. He follows the trail now, making his way through the castle as though he had walked those halls his entire life. He finds that his magic leads him to the council chamber and when he stops outside, hand only a short distance from the handle, he finds himself hesitating. He knows that if he goes in that either only he or Uther will come out. Once he sees that man again he won't be able to stop himself, won't be able to prevent the bloodlust that he's kept at bay his entire life. Even now his hand twitches at his sides, trying in vain to reach for the handle against his will so that the door can be thrown open and he can exact his revenge.

But the thought of Arthur stops him. After all, this man is Arthur's father. No matter how much he's done to others; how much he's hurt sorcerers all over; Merlin has no right to take Arthur's father away from him. He has no right forcing Arthur through all the pain that he had gone through. That would make him no better than Uther would it not? Yet, as he hears the crowd charging through the castle, their voices bouncing off the walls demanding redemption, he finds himself grasping the handle and opening the door.

He enters the room to find the king standing at the head of the table. The man has his head bowed, hands braced against the edge as he seems to stress over the days events. The man hadn't heard him. Not yet. He has his back turned to the door, away from where the warlock now stalks up to him with the eyes of a predator. Merlin feels the magic beat against his bones, pounding to the rhythm of his heart as he comes to a stop behind the old king. He can feel the whispers in his ears again, the silent calls for him to do it, to kill him, to exact his revenge. Growing impatient he feels his magic reach out on its own, wanting to wrap itself around the man's neck and strangle him where he stands, but Merlin reels it in.

This is the moment he's been waiting for. The moment where he can finally fill that void he's felt in his chest. That emptiness in his heart that's been biting at him ever since his parents had died. He can fill it. Fill it with the satisfaction of revenge. His eyes drift to the sword that lies on the table, to the blade that had pierced through his father and mother before his very eyes and, quietly, he reaches for the sword.

By the time the king notices the movement behind him the boy has already grasped the hilt. Uther turns to face him and the last thing he sees is the golden eyes of the warlock as Merlin plunges the blade through his chest.

Merlin tells his magic to push the blade in further while he relishes in the look on the king's face. The force knocks the king back, making him fall against the table as the sword pierces the wood and pins him there. Merlin doesn't let go of the blade, not until Uther ceases to move. When he finally does the warlock steps back. He stares at his work, at all that he has done and waits for that dreadful feeling in his chest to fill, but it doesn't. He doesn't feel any better. The emptiness is still there and he wonders what the point of his vengeance even was.

-----

"Arthur!" Morgana calls, rushing up to him and giving the man a warm hug, "what do you think you were doing? Why didn't you tell us?"

Arthur smiles, returning the gesture before pulling away. "I'm sorry, but it was a delicate situation. I didn't want any of you put in harms way."

Morgana pouts at that, but can't find the strength to get mad. She's just happy to see him in one piece. "Please, don't do that again."

"I don't plan to." He glances back towards the crowd that have now entered the castle. A few had stayed behind, still somewhat hesitant, but it seems to vast majority has joined in on the riot. "I'll be back," he says to Morgana before he turns towards the castle, setting off for the door despite the calls of his friends behind him. 

The moment he enters he can hear the loud shouts of the crowd echoing off the walls, still yelling for Uther as they parade through in search of their king. Thankfully, unlike the townspeople, he knows the layout of the palace. He'll be able to reach his father before them and he knows that there is only one place that he would be.

Arthur comes to a stop when he reaches the double doors of the council chamber. He can only assume that his father is inside, most likely brooding over what is to be done. Judging by the lack of sound inside the townspeople have yet to find him. Arthur reaches for the door, but stops just short of the handle. Why is he reaching for the handle now? His father didn't deserve his love, his sympathy. The king had tried to kill him, had tried to execute him. Yet, still here he is, waiting in front of the door to where his father is, thinking of ways to help him, to change him. Why does he still want to change his father? Even though he knows there is no point in trying?

Arthur sighs, grabbing the handle and pushing the door open, expecting to see his father seated in his throne only to find a much different sight. There's his father, lying there on the council table, a sword impaled through his chest. He doesn't move. 

The prince stumbles in, almost tripping over his own feet as he makes his way over to the king. He sets his hands on either side of the man's body, bracing himself against the table as he stares down at the man's face. No tears escape his eyes, not even one, and it's not because he doesn't care. Of course he did. The man was his father. No, it's because the only thing he can feel is the flaring anger in his chest that seems to burn away all the tears before they even have the chance to appear. So this is what Merlin had felt. He whips his head around, searching for the culprit only to have his eyes land on the last person he expected to see.

There's Merlin, kneeling on the stone just before the table, staring up at the dead body of the king. His gaze is hazy, as though he has yet to notice the prince standing in front of him. Arthur can only stare at the boy by his feet. His body shakes, trembling with both anger and hurt. Merlin did this. Merlin had killed his father. Hearing those words together in his head spirals him into action. His hand reaches out, grasping the boy by his neckerchief and hauling him to his feet before pushing him up against the wall.

Merlin gasps at the force, the breath being knocked out of him. As he tries to catch his breath he seems to finally notice the prince in front of him. His eyes widen, the realization of what he's done appearing to settle in. He looks to the king then back towards Arthur who's face has now turned red with rage. The pure hatred in the man's eyes is something he recognizes. Something he remembers seeing on the face of a different man in childhood. He never expected to see it again. Especially not on the face of the man he loves. But he knows why it's there, knows why it's directed at him.

"I'm sorry," Merlin manages to say, voice strained due to the hand pressed against his throat, "I'm sorry for hurting you and I know that apologizing won't make things feel any better, but I'll say it anyways. I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am. I regret hurting you, but I don't regret killing him. He was a horrible man and he would only continue to do horrible things if he lived."

Arthur's hand tightens around the boy's throat, making the warlock gasp for breath as he tugs at the prince's hand. He feels himself being lifted slightly off the ground before being thrown sideways, sliding against the floor until his back hits the opposite wall. Merlin coughs, looking up to see Arthur looming over him with eyes still filled with fury. He grabs one of the swords that hang from the decorations on the walls and points it straight at the warlock by his feet.

Merlin wonders whether that anger he sees in Arthur's eyes was once in his own. He wonders if this is what the king saw just before he had died. How strange that it was now he who was on the receiving end.

Arthur hardly registered the words Merlin had said. All he heard was excuses. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Everything he needed to see the truth is right in front of him. The warlock killed the king. That was how it always was and that is always how it will be.

He lifted the sword up, preparing to bring it down in his fit of rage, but something stops him. Something makes him hesitate. Perhaps, the words had been heard or maybe it was because of the look of acceptance he sees in Merlin's eyes. Regardless, Arthur wills himself to stop, to carefully make a choice instead of letting the hatred in his heart blind him like it had so many others before. His father was indeed a menace. He was a horrible man, even Arthur could see that. The king used whatever tools existed in his arsenal to maintain his iron grip on the kingdom, even if that meant persecuting an entire group or killing his own son as an example. Perhaps his father could have been saved a few years ago, but not anymore. Certainly not anymore.

He looks to Merlin below him who now sits on the floor, waiting for whatever punishment Arthur deems appropriate to befall him. He can still see the love in Merlin's eyes, the genuine care he has for the prince. He has done a wrong and Arthur doubts he will be able to forgive him, at least not so soon, but that doesn't mean Merlin deserves to die. After all what would that accomplish? Uther had killed Merlin's parents and in return Merlin killed Uther. It's nothing but a cycle. One that never has an end. Even if he were to kill Merlin here, who's to say the cycle won't continue? Perhaps tomorrow, after his friends hear of Merlin's death by his hand, Morgana will come for his life.

The sounds from the riot grow louder as the people near the council chamber, their chants for Uther's head increasing in volume, and Arthur sends a glance to the king's body. He supposes no matter what happened the king would not live to see the sun rise tomorrow.

So, slowly, Arthur sets the sword down. He looks to Merlin, eyes still cold, but with the fire having died down considerably. He turns away, rubbing a hand against his eyes as he clears his head. He points to the door, "Please," he says, voice broken, "just go."

Merlin gets to his feet, staggering slightly but otherwise unhurt. He reaches a hand out, wanting to grasp the prince's own but stops himself. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve the comfort Arthur would give him. "I love you, Arthur," he says quietly and the prince almost misses the words, "I love you and I'm sorry." He turns around, heading out the door that Arthur pointed towards and disappears down the hall.

While Merlin leaves Arthur feels the tears pool from his eyes. He's unsure of what they're for. Perhaps they're for his father or maybe they're for the lover who walks away from him. Whatever the reason, the townspeople find him standing alone in the council chambers with shoulders shaking and a dead king beside him. 

-----

It's not until late into the night that Arthur finds the time to return to his chambers. He heads down the hall, feeling even more stressed than in the morning when he thought he was about to be executed. Now he has a whole kingdom to run. New laws to make. And so many more responsibilities.

He turns the corner only to find Morgana outside his door. "Morgana," he says with a smile, walking over, "Did you need something?"

"I just came to say goodbye," she says, returning the smile.

Arthur frowns, "you're leaving? Why? Uther's dead. The threat is gone so-"

"But magic is still illegal," she says, cutting him off, "and no matter how much you want to repeal the law it will still take time. Besides, if I stay here there is no one to teach me. The Druids can help me master the talent that I have," a teasing grin appears on her face, "then when I return I'll show you who's the better fighter."

The prince rolls his eyes at the remark, but still opens his arms wide to give his dear friend a hug. "Do be careful, Arthur," she whispers into his ear, "I don't want to come back only to find out you're dead."

Arthur nods, patting her on the back in reassurance, "I'll be careful."

She gives him one last smile which Arthur swears looks a little sad, then turns to leave, strolling down the hall with her head swivelling about as though she wanted to engrave the castle walls into her memory one last time before she leaves. 

When her figure finally disappears around a corner Arthur pushes open the door to the chamber and walks inside. He shuts the door behind him, tossing his gloves and sword on the table before something on the bed catches his eyes. He walks over, one eyebrow arched up in curiosity as he looks to his bed. Two plants, one with small, blue flowers and the other with small white ones, rest against the pillows, their petals bright against the dark red of his sheets. Beside them is a book, the one he had given Merlin when he confessed his love, and resting atop the book is a blue butterfly. The creature flutters up to Arthur, drifting around his head as he bends down to pick up the book and flowers. He finds two of the pages marked and flips it open. 

The first page shows the image of the white flowers, Star of Bethlehem they're called. Arthur looks down the page, stopping at it's meaning: I'm Sorry.  

Arthur glances to the flower in his hand then turns to the second marked page. This one shows the image of the blue flower and the name alone says all that he needs to know. Forget-Me-Not. 

Arthur shuts the book, setting it down by his bedside before looking over to the window. He knows that if he looks out that he'll find Merlin down there, most likely waiting for Morgana. He'll probably find the warlock looking in his direction, wanting to catch a glimpse of him one last time before he departs and truthfully, the prince does too. He wants to see Merlin once more, but he can't. He can't look Merlin in the eyes, not without feeling that anger in his chest again. But perhaps one day, when he's finally sorted out everything, he'll find it in his heart to forgive him and they can be together once again. 

Until then, he'll run his kingdom. He'll take care of his home and build it up as a place where all are welcome, sorcerer's included. The prince smiles then holds up the Forget-Me-Not's, spinning them in his hand as the blue butterfly flutters around him. He doesn't know when he'll forgive Merlin. It could be weeks, months, even years from now. But the one thing he does know is that he'll never forget the love he has for the warlock, no matter how far apart they are, and when all has been forgiven he wants to bring Merlin home to a kingdom that they can both be proud of.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Arthur did was begin the process for repealing the ban on magic. Except the problem was that it was taking a lot longer than Arthur anticipated. He had thought that he could remove the ban easily enough. Simply sign the document and announce it to the kingdom, that should be all it took. His father had done so enough times. He figured that he could have it done by the end of the first month. But, when he actually found himself seated at the head of the council table with all the council members questioning him about his decision he realized that it would take longer. Much longer. It wasn't that they were against his proposal. Sure, there were a few that showed concern and seemed against the idea, but many questioned him about the parameters that are to be set. Questions such as the types of magic that were allowed and the extent of punishment for practicing dangerous magic. He hadn't considered that far ahead and so spent the next long while teaching himself all he needed to know.

He spent months in his chambers, reading through all the documents, books, and records that Geoffrey had on magic. Often he would fall asleep at the table, waking up to the sight of Gwen standing in front of him with a look of pity and breakfast in her hands. He would find himself wandering the town as well, asking the citizens themselves of their thoughts and opinions on magic. He would question them on Uther's policies too. Asking them to share their honest thoughts without fear of punishment. He made sure to hear from all types of people, even those who had supported Uther. Arthur knew he needed to learn more, he needed to understand not just one side of the story, but of both. He found Gaius to be the best person to talk to in such cases since the old man had not only been a good friend of Uther's but also a sorcerer. He understood both sides and he knew the flaws and dangers of both. Gaius was able to help him much when he worked on the reformed law, advising him of both the good and the bad of sorcery.

His research not only helped him understand more about magic, but his father as well. He learned of the terrible things he'd done, had dug up old documents in Geoffrey's library that recounted some of the horrors that Uther allowed to pass. At some times, he understood what his father had done. Some of the sorcerers were truly cruel monsters. They would kill out of cold blood and convenience. They used their magic to exploit others and were what his father described, but there were also those that his father hunted that didn't deserve the pain they had to suffer through. There were people such as the Druids, who never brought harm to anyone and instead saved travellers who were found injured or the sorcerers who used their magic to heal, such as Gaius. And of course the children. The ones who never even had a chance to live long enough to think a bad thought.

When he had finally learned of the things Uther had done he started to see things in a newer light. He saw why Merlin wanted Uther dead. He saw why many of the townspeople themselves wanted Uther dead. He understood what Merlin had done and he doesn't doubt that if he were in the same situation that he would have done the same. After all, he almost did didn't he? He had held the blade to Merlin's neck. A moment later and he would have done the deed.

Arthur now sits at his desk, tapping the quill against the table as he tries to summon up the courage to bring ink to parchment and write what he wants to say because despite his anger, his hurt, and his sadness he knows that what Merlin had done was justified. He may not be happy with the result, but that doesn't mean he should have been as harsh as he was. He left Merlin alone, abandoned him when he promised he would never leave. He had hurt him with his words, and it's only right that he should apologize too that he should at least let him know that he still cared.

He sighs, looking to the flowers that sit beside him on his desk in a little vase. Merlin had admitted to his wrong doings and it's only right that he does too because the last person who refused to admit to their mistakes had been Uther Pendragon and look where that had gotten him. Still, despite it all he finds it hard to bring the quill down on the page. A part of him still isn't ready to forgive the warlock. A part of him still says that Merlin got what he deserved. But as the butterfly skitters across the surface of the wood, stopping at the tip of his quill it too appeared to be urging him to write and put his feelings down on the page for Merlin to see. The king smiles at the little critter and soon the ink starts to flow across the page.

He tries his best to write what he feels, tries his best to let Merlin know what he's been thinking about. Whether or not Merlin chooses to read his letter is up to him, but he want's to let Merlin know that he's not alone no matter how far or for how long they are apart.

He scrawls the last words on the page with a small smile on his face: I love you, Merlin and I'm sorry.

-----

Merlin frowns at the parchment on his lap, hating the look of his disorganized scrawl. He holds his work up, comparing it to that of Arthur's neat writing on his letter to the warlock and finds his pride deflating even further. How do people write so neatly? How do they not get the ink to smudge all across the page?

He sighs, tossing the half finished letter aside as he stands and stretches. The candle flickers on the ground beside him, lighting up his tent with shadows of the books that remain piled along the edges. He picks up the candle, taking it out with him into the night as he wanders around the camp. Most of the druids are already asleep, their candles extinguished and their tents dark as they huddle together for the night. He's always envious when he sees the contented smiles of the families. Envious of the tight hold they all have on one another. It's something he's always wanted back and once upon a time he thinks that he may have found it. That he may have found it in the form of a certain prince with blond hair behind the grate, but even that is gone too. Whisked away by the wind almost as quickly as he had found it, just like everything else in his life.

He looks back to his tent, seeing Arthur's letter resting on the ground through the flap. He had been surprised when he read the prince's - or actually king's - letter. He didn't expect him to apologize, nor did he expect him to say 'I love you'. He had thought Arthur hated him. That he never wanted to see him again and that knowledge of Arthur's hatred hurt. It hurt him more than he thought was possible. He had watched his mother and father die in front of his very eyes and yet, somehow, that one act from Arthur had been able to hurt him just as much.

He spent his first few months with the druids in hopelessness. He refused to talk, to learn, to do anything that wasn't staring off into the forest. He didn't see a meaning in anything anymore. He had gotten his revenge and the people he cared about had left him. He didn't see much of a point in anything. There was little hope, but Morgana kept telling him otherwise. She stayed by his side. She talked to him, told him that she cared and that if Arthur was too much of an idiot to realize what he had done was stupid then he wasn't worth it. She said that he could find new friends. New people who cared, like the Druids that took care of him now. But despite what she said about Arthur she still told him to have some hope for the king. She reassured him, telling him that she knew Arthur well enough to know that he still cared because after all he was still working towards creating a kingdom where sorcerers can live freely. He didn't believe her at first, but when he noticed a group of red clad knights patrolling the area of the Druid camp every night, eventually he did let himself hope that perhaps Arthur did still care. Just a little bit.

So, when Morgana had walked up to him that one morning with a letter he let himself hope. He tore it open and seeing those words had helped him. It made him feel... happier, a little less hopeless because now he had something real. Something that was really there that he could hold onto. Something that wasn't just someone else's word. Arthur still cared for him. Still loved him and Merlin knew that he felt the same. He knew that if Arthur was ever in trouble that he would rush to his aid and he was sure that Arthur would too, but he also knew that neither of them wanted to see the other. Not yet. Not so soon. He felt that he was contradicting himself, for how could he love someone but also dread seeing them. The druids and Morgana though made sure to tell him otherwise. They told him that sometimes loved ones fight. They might argue and disagree. They might hurt one another in the process, but in the end they can come back, can still love each other. They can apologize and make up. They can learn to understand one another better than they ever had before. Then, in the end, they can make their bond stronger. So Merlin had run to Morgana the next moment, asking her to teach him how to write so that he could send Arthur a letter back. He wanted to let Arthur know that it was alright. He wanted to let Arthur know that he won't return because he knew it was what was best for them. They needed some time to think, and Merlin hopes that through this he can learn to understand Arthur better and that Arthur can learn to understand him.

Merlin yawns, stretching once again before turning back to return to his tent. He seats himself down on the grass, picking up the quill and returns to his writing, responding to the lengthy letter he had received a few days ago. Though it is long and a good few pages of it were about Arthur's thoughts, the second half of the letter contained nothing but rambling. From what he's gathered from the second half Arthur seems to be rather stressed about the new reform and doesn't take very kindly to a certain council man named Wilfred. Merlin chuckles to himself, finding the letter rather reminiscent of the times when Arthur came to visit him simply to complain about his training. He tried his best to write a legible reply and when he finally finished he sets the candle down beside his pillow. He climbs underneath the blankets and doesn't bother to extinguish the flame as he goes to sleep. He wants the light there because it helps to remind him that he wasn't in that hole anymore. That the all encompassing darkness is something that is long gone and, despite everything that had happened, it was thanks to Arthur that he's here at all.

-----

The pair continued to send letters as the months went by. Sometimes, they consisted of nothing more than senseless retellings of their days and at others there were important discussions on magic. Arthur was happy to have Merlin's help in creating the new laws regarding magic, and Merlin was more than happy to give his input.

Arthur would find himself spending countless nights awake in his chambers, sitting at his desk with the candle lit and the butterfly fluttering around him as he wrote and rewrote his letters to the warlock. It wasn't odd for Gwen to walk into his room one morning and find him either asleep at his desk or asleep on the floor as he had tried to make his way to the bed in the middle of the night. The maidservant would just sigh and leave his breakfast on the table before leaving the room quietly. On other days though, she would walk over and give him a good whack on the head to rouse him.

When the king wasn't writing letters he spent his time either perfecting the new law or by sifting through the lists of sorcerers his father had killed. He went through each name, searching for documents that would pinpoint where each of their homes were and where their families are now. After finding the information he needed he would send his knights there with a personal letter of apology from him and enough money for the family to construct a proper grave. He knew is wasn't enough to compensate their loss. Nothing would ever be enough, but he still wanted to do it. He wanted to show the sorcerers that he cared. That he really wanted to make a difference. That he wasn't his father. Uther had never allowed sorcerers to have any marked graves, and Arthur wanted to be sure that all those who had fallen to his father's tyranny were properly honoured. There was one pair of names that he was searching for though. One pair that he wanted to find above all else. He hadn't found them yet, but he hoped that he would eventually. He desperately hoped that he would.

Meanwhile Merlin spent most of his days practicing magic with the Druids. He would sit out in the sun, Morgana by his side, as Iseldir taught them how to master their talents. The Druids always praised them on their abilities, telling them how they were fast learners and had the potential to do great things in the future. Morgana would always smile at him when she heard the words, proud that the powers she once feared could one day be used to protect others and they would do just that.

Sometimes, when merchants or farmers wandered a little too close to bandit camps they would find that suddenly a convenient sign would appear along the road, pointing towards the closet town. On other occasions, when perhaps a group of knights - and a king - dressed in red stumble upon a group of thieves they would find that these particular rogues were rather clumsy. They would trip over their own feet and drop their weapons whenever they were about to swing. Sometimes, they would even suddenly fly off into the depths of the forest as though grabbed by an invisible hand. During those times Merlin would always catch the king look around after the fight, as though searching for something that he can't see before smiling with a grin that brightened the world and turn away to lead his knights. Merlin would smile in return, before looking to Morgana and returning to the Druid camp.

It was by the second year that Arthur finished creating his new law and he had announced it to the kingdom, but it was not until the fourth year that Arthur sent Merlin a letter asking him to meet him at a certain village in the outskirts of Cenred's kingdom.

-----

Merlin, with Morgana behind him, follow the path marked on the map in his hands. He can feel his fingers shake with nervousness with each step he takes, with each step closer that he takes to Arthur. He doesn't know if he's ready. Doesn't know what he'll do once he sees the king. Maybe that hurt will return or he won't feel the love he used to have. He still loves him now. He knows he still does, but he also knows that when he sees Arthur again, face to face for the first time in four years, he'll remember that look the king had given him. He'll remember those eyes filled with hate and betrayal. He'll remember what he had done to Arthur and remember what Arthur in turn had done to him.

He's scared. He's afraid of what might happen, but when he feels a hand rest on his shoulder, a comforting touch that seems to tell him 'don't worry, I'll always be here' he finds the fear subsiding briefly. He turns to give Morgana a smile though he knows she can probably tell it's somewhat forced. "You know you don't have to go if you aren't ready," she says with a worrying look, "I'm sure Arthur would understand."

Merlin nods, "I know. I'm just... nervous."

Morgana returns the smile, patting him on the back in reassurance. "If you want to leave then let me know," she snaps her fingers and a small flame appears, "I'll light his trousers on fire and then we can run."

A laugh escapes the warlock's lips, "Thank you, but don't go too far. We don't want him hating both of us."

Morgana just winks at him, "He already hates me. I have nothing to worry about."

As they continue on the path soon opens up into a large clearing where houses and fields of crops can be seen near the centre. Merlin looks around, wondering at first why Arthur had chosen this village as the place for them to meet. There's nothing special here. Just a small village with small houses, but as they approach he starts to feel a sense of familiarity about the place. He walks along the main trail that leads through the town and he feels as though he's walked here before. As though he's run along these paths a long, long time ago. The houses and trees that surround him have a nostalgic air. Sometimes, when he glances at a nearby building or structure, he feels that he does remember the place, that he has been here before, but the feeling is always short lived. Just as he's about to grasp the memory it seems to pull away, laughing in his face as he tries desperately to reach it. It's there, he knows it's there in his mind, but he can't place why. It's like there's a word on the tip of his tongue except far worse because he can't find any other words to describe the one he's searching for.

He continues to wander the town, looking around in confusion as the villagers pass him by without so much as a glance in his direction because all their eyes seem to be focused on a figure nearby and Merlin can already guess who it might be. He feels a push from behind him, and he turns to see Morgana smiling at him while mouthing the word 'go'. His step quickens as he follows the people's gazes, leaving Morgana behind as he rushes towards the back of a man with blond hair dressed in armour and with a blue butterfly on his shoulder. He stops a few buildings away from Arthur, feeling his legs unable to move forward. His body shakes a little, trembling with nervousness at the mere sight of Arthur standing so close. He notices that Arthur's gotten much taller in the past four years, though he doesn't seem to be any taller than himself. His shoulders appear broader from the back, contrary to his own lanky frame, and if possible he looks to have gained even more muscle than before. He armour suites him much more than it used to. He seems more comfortable in the gear, more at home, and as he looks down at the sword that hangs beside him he doesn't doubt that Arthur has become an even better fighter.

The king has yet to notice him. His attention seems to be on his horse who's reins he had just handed to the stableboy. Merlin knows that this is his last chance, his last chance to turn back. If he doesn't want to see him he can turn and go. He can leave and send Arthur a letter saying he wasn't ready, but as he stares at Arthur's back he knows he won't leave. Nothing will change if he keeps hiding. If they discover they're still unforgiving of one another they can leave. They can turn around and try again another time. It'll hurt seeing him again. He knows that it will. He won't forget the anger in Arthur's eyes, but he misses those smiles that Arthur used to give him and that's reason enough for him to reach out.

He takes a few steps closer, the gravel crunching under his boots and the sound seems to catch the attention of the butterfly. The creature turns around, appearing to spot the warlock before fluttering into the air and in front of the king's face. Arthur frowns, eyes following the blue butterfly as it dances through the air towards Merlin.

The warlock smiles, holding out a hand for the butterfly to land on. It scuttles excitedly across his palm, seeming to have missed it's creator as it scampers up to his shoulder. When Merlin looks back up he finds Arthur staring at him. The king's eyes seem to say a million things all at once. There's sorrow in them, brought about by the shame of having hurt the one he loves. There's joy and relief from the sight of Merlin safe, but underneath it all there's a hint of betrayal, of discomfort as though he wants to turn away. Merlin doesn't blame him for that look because he knows that the same emotions must be shown across his own eyes as well.

Arthur slowly walks over, his body tense as he makes his way to where Merlin stands. The warlock feels his shoulders tense as well, his body wanting to turn and take a step back, but he wills it to stay. He's ready to face Arthur. He's thought long enough.

Arthur stops in front of him, not too close, but close enough. He smiles a little shyly, looking unsure of what to do as his eyes linger over the warlock. "Merlin," he says, voice deeper than Merlin remembered, "I'm... happy to see you again."

The tone makes Merlin frown. It sounds professional, as though he weren't speaking to a friend but rather to a councilmen. "Um... it's a pleasure to see you too," he says, unsure now of what to say. He had tried to prepare himself for this moment on numerous occasions, but now that he's standing here, right in front of Arthur, everything seems to have escaped his mind.

They stand awkwardly beside each other, both unsure of what to do. They look around, neither meeting each others eyes. "So, um..." Merlin begins, eyes turned away from Arthur, "why did you bring me here?"

Arthur smiles, but this time the smile is sad. "I'll show you," he says and holds out a hand.

Merlin looks at it for a moment and he almost takes it. Almost. Instead though he looks away and Arthur can tell with that one movement that he shouldn't pressure him. He doesn't comment on the action, knowing that Merlin will take it whenever he's ready. So, he turns around and leads the way, the pair attracting many odd glances as they weave through the streets.

They come to a stop in front of a small house. The walls are made of stone like many of the other homes nearby and the roof is straw. The door is old and broken down, just barely hanging on its hinges. As Merlin stands outside he can feel his insides grow cold because unlike the rest of the village he recognizes this place. He recognizes the walls, the small garden on the side of the house. It's his house. It's the place where he used to live. Arthur has brought him home.

Merlin can feel tears in his eyes, can feel them prickle at the corners as he remembers the laughs and smiles he used to share in the house. He remembers his mother greeting him at the front door, his father holding his hand as they walked home together. This is where it all began and this is where it all ends.

"The village is called Ealdor," Arthur says, standing beside him as he stares at the house as well. "I searched through all the old records my father had on sorcerers to find it. I wanted to show you. I know you've always wanted to come back home."

Merlin doesn't reply, he takes a step forward then suddenly Arthur steps in front of him, blocking his path. His eyes are full of caution and worry as he meets Merlin's gaze though the warlock's stare remains trained on the house behind him. "Are you sure you want to go in?" he asks.

"It's my home," Merlin says, his voice quiet, "I want to see it again."

Arthur nods then steps aside, letting him pass. Merlin presses a hand against the rickety door then, gently, pushes it open. The hinges creak as he steps through the threshold and suddenly he feels like a child again. Like he's that little boy who had been showered with love and affection. He looks around, seeing the thick coating of dust that covers everything. His mother would have been furious had she seen it. He walks further in, instinctively turning towards the little kitchen where he expected to see his mother. He could almost hear her humming, filling the house with music as she cooked. He looked to the dining table, picturing his father sitting on the bench with a book in hand and a candle flickering beside him. The room is untouched, appearing almost the same as he had remembered it except for one large difference. There's a stain. An old one that looks almost black now with age. He knows what it is. Of course he knows what it is. He can see it in his mind now. Can see the blood that had spilt across the floor and furniture. The peaceful scene in his mind warps into one of terror. His mother's humming morphs into horrid screams. His father's seated figure is now slouched across the table, unmoving.

Merlin trembles, his whole body shaking as he gazes at the walls around him. He drops to his knees and the tears fall. They trail down his cheeks as his breath hitches in his throat. He knows he can't bring them back. He knows that there's nothing he can do to bring back those happy days. This is the home where he had everything and the home where he lost everything. This place will always be in his heart, but he needs to let it go. He needs to move on. He needs to say goodbye.

-----

Arthur waits outside the house, arms crossed over his chest as he stares back at the people watching him. He can hear the sobs from Merlin inside, can faintly here the things he says to his mother and father. The sound makes the last bit of anger melt away. Merlin killed his father. He knows that, but this is what Uther had done to Merlin. This is what Uther had done to so many others. Hearing Merlin now, he truly realizes how stupid he was to hate him. How stupid he was to send him away. He wants to just run inside and throw his arms around the warlock and tell him it's okay, but he knows he shouldn't enter. No Pendragon deserves to enter that house after what had happened. It would feel wrong. Like he's tarnishing a sacred ground. Besides, this is something Merlin has to do. It's something personal, private, and he shouldn't interfere.

It's another few minutes before Merlin appears form the house, eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks to Arthur then smiles, "Thank you," he says, wiping at his eyes, "I... I really appreciate it. you didn't have to do this."

Arthur returns the smile, "There's one more thing I want you to see."

He leads him out into the forest, following a lightly worn trail as they pick their way through the underbrush. The moment they break through the line of trees they're met with the sight of a vast lake. The water glitters in the afternoon sun, the surface still with no ripples disturbing the beauty. It almost appears to be a mirror, reflecting all the world around them. Merlin lets out a little gasp, amazed at the scenery before Arthur walks forward, leading him towards the water's edge. There, not too close but also not too far from the shore is a pair of marked graves. Two names are inscribed in the stone: Balinor and Hunith.

Merlin stands before the graves with a smile. A pile of lilies lie before each, and without even asking he knows it must have been Arthur who laid them there. He kneels down bowing his head in a silent prayer for them both before getting back to his feet. He looks out over the lake, admiring it's view and knowing that if his parent were here, they would love it as well.

He glances to Arthur, seeing him stand there beside him. He's staring out at the lake as well and Merlin wonders whether he's thinking about his mother and father as well. He reaches a hand out, taking Arthur's hand in his own. The king looks down at their intwined hands, then tightens his grip because this time, this time he won't leave. He won't leave ever again.

"Let's go home," Merlin says as he gives an affectionate squeeze.

"Home?" Arthur asks, a little confused.

Merlin turns to look at him and again their eyes meet, except this time neither look away. Arthur sees so many things in Merlin's eyes. He can see forgiveness, gratitude, and apology. But most of all he sees love. He sees the love in Merlin's eyes and he only hopes that Merlin can see the love in his as well.

"Home," Merlin says again with a smile that's more beautiful than anything, "let's go home to Camelot."