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Far away from Camelot, among the dark crags of foreboding mountains a mighty sorcerer called Mawdryn stood seething. He had been tasked with watching over the one his kind called Emrys for all of the young man’s short life.
The others had great hopes for this child, they said that he was the most powerful magic wielder that would ever live, that he would reconcile the world of magic with that of mortal men and bring salvation to their people.
Mawdryn had at first happily watched, full of fervour and wild passion for the time to come when they wouldn’t be persecuted, chained, or put to death ever again and maybe even regain some of their former glory. But as he watched the boy be gradually enveloped in the inner circles of their enemy’s stronghold, becoming personal manservant to the tyrant king’s son no less! his joy turned slowly to hatred and bitterness.
They said this was all part of the great destiny that would usher in the new golden age but Mawdryn wasn’t listening anymore; he had seen the decisions this ‘great’ Emrys had made; foolish mistakes that jeopardized the great vision, refusing to let the tyrant die on more than one occasion when he could have easily stood by and rid the world of a scourge on his people, passing up numerous opportunities to fulfil his mission out of some misplaced loyalty to his master.
Mawdryn spat in disgust. Master! If this Emrys was so powerful he should have no master, he should have revealed himself long ago and taken Camelot for himself; for all of them! But no, he bides his time, sacrificing his own kind, colluding with the enemy all supposedly in service of some higher purpose.
The fools! This traitor could never be their saviour; they’d had him waste over thirty years of his life watching over some cold-hearted false prophet and he knew exactly how to make him pay for his treachery.
He closed his eyes, moved his hands, and chanted his incantations.
Meanwhile, on the sparring ground of Camelot castle, Merlin, padded from top to toe, was trying his best to parry or avoid a flurry of attacks all at once and, as usual, not succeeding. The flat of the king’s sword caught him across the back and he stumbled to the ground.
“Come on Merlin,” Arthur laughed, “how are we ever going to get better if you can’t put up more of a defence than that?”
“You lot are quite good enough at chopping things to bits without my help, it’s putting them back together you can’t do,” Merlin grumbled back.
No-one else would get away with such remarks but the king just scoffed and none of the knights batted an eye at this particular servant’s insolence, having long ago agreed to count Merlin as one of them in all but name. He had fought alongside them to the extent that he could, after all, and therefore definitely had bantering rights.
Gawain offered a hand to help him up, which he took, before using the advantage of surprise to press an attack, putting Gawain on the back foot before forcing him to the ground with the crude staff they’d given him for a weapon.
Merlin returned the favour with a grin.
Slightly peeved, Gawain shoved the staff into Merlin’s chest and he felt a sudden strange stab of pain. The force of the blow had barely been a light shove but he stumbled and instinctively put his hand on Gawain’s arm to steady himself.
The other knights and Arthur simply laughed thinking that he was joking but Gawain noticed the genuine flash of agony cross his face before it was gone in an instant.
Merlin caught his eye and implored him not to let on to the others, ‘it’s nothing,’ he said without speaking, ‘I don’t believe you,’ Gawain replied just as silently.
It was true that the pain was gone but Merlin suddenly felt a chill although the spring afternoon was still and sunny. For all he had been bemoaning his job as punching bag earlier, being active now seemed to him a particularly good idea. To their surprise he now threw himself into his defence of their onslaught with more vigour than he’d displayed all morning and sometimes even got the upper hand.
By the end of the afternoon session he was red faced, panting and sweating but still couldn’t shift the cold that seemed to have gnawed its way into his very bones.
“All right, who or what are you, and what have you done with Merlin?” Arthur asked with a light laugh as Merlin helped him off with his armour; he was sweating too and couldn’t remember the last time he’d had quite so much fun.
“Just thought I’d call your bluff for once,” Merlin said trying to conceal the small, disquieting feeling that something was really wrong.
“Well, I just hope you’ve still got enough energy for your other duties today, don’t forget we’re entertaining guests this week so you’re going to be very busy,” Arthur called over his shoulder as he headed back into the castle.
Any other day Merlin would have paid no heed to such ribbing, knowing as he did that it was really all in jest but today it just kind of niggled in the back of his head. His easy smile faltered slightly but he went about his tasks regardless, occasionally jumping up and down or rubbing his hands together in a vain attempt to generate a bit of warmth.
For the next week Merlin got up and went to bed feeling achingly cold. He’d tried everything. He told Gaius who, after examining him and putting it down to some kind of common illness, had made him warming hawthorn tea, chicken broth and herbal medicine for colds and flu.
On his time off he went running in the forest and hurried around the castle attempting to complete his duties in half the time, both hoping the strenuousness of the activity would help and so that he could return to Gaius’s fire and blankets as quickly as possible.
He was also losing sleep and out of desperation started genuinely frequenting the tavern in the hope of finding anything that could just take the edge off the ice that now seemed to flow through his veins or get him to sleep.
Gaius was by now thoroughly worried and begged Merlin to tell Arthur he was ill and take time off so he could care for him but Merlin stubbornly refused, assuring him that he would stop after their guests had gone and everything quietened down.
As a result, he was also trying to hide all this from Arthur.
The morning before the diplomatic party were set to leave he dressed in as many layers of clothing as he could reasonably get away with without arousing suspicion and went down to the kitchens to get Arthur’s tray and went up to his chambers.
“Your breakfast, your majesty,” he called, trying to affect his usual casual snarky attitude.
Arthur groaned from under the bedclothes and gradually roused himself to a grumpy wakefulness. He looked at Merlin blearily; there was something different about him today, he was sure.
“Have you been putting on weight Merlin?”
Merlin coughed self-consciously as he managed to put the tray down with just a small rattle on the table.
“I’m just feeling a bit cold that’s all, nothing to worry about.”
Arthur cast an askance glance at him that he didn’t notice, Arthur wasn’t terribly observant sure, but he had noticed the strangely efficient way Merlin had gone about his chores recently. Not that he would compliment Merlin on that. As per their daily game of verbal cat and mouse he in turn affected his usual dismissive arrogant tone.
“I should hope not, our guests are getting the customary Camelot farewell banquet tonight and you’ll be needed to help wait on them.”
‘Was Arthur being more insensitive of late,’ Merlin wondered or was he being more sensitive to Arthur’s natural insensitivities?
He became aware that the king was looking at him expectantly. He must have drifted off.
“Hmm, sorry?” he said, rousing himself.
“Come on clotpole, do I have to do everything around here.”
He was a little worried by Merlin’s slightly spaced demeanour but he hoped that the affectionate insults they had created together might cut through whatever was the matter if just to get him through today. Much as he might sound like it, he wasn’t being flippant about how needed Merlin was, and not just for waiting tables; he had somehow become invaluable as confidant, adviser and, dare he say it, friend.
Unfortunately, along with his sleep, Merlin was fast losing his patience, and this time the teasing didn’t have the desired effect.
“I do everything round here!,” Merlin blurted before he could stop himself as a great tremor shook through his body.
Now Arthur was properly worried. He got up and moved to where his servant was still standing next to the rapidly cooling tray of food. His hands were shaking.
“Merlin, what’s wrong?”
Arthur’s hand brushed against Merlin’s ever-so briefly but he could feel a cold radiating from him as though it were a kind of inverse fever.
“We’ve got to get you to Gaius now!” Arthur put his arm round him and tried to steer him towards the door.
“But I need to help you get dressed and then there’s so much to do before the banquet, I’m sorry for my outburst, ’m fine really.”
“No, you’re not, you’re ill.”
Arthur looked at him properly for the first time since that training session, there was a pallor to his skin and black bags under his eyes. This wasn’t a ‘this morning’ thing, he’d been ill for a while. Hell! How hadn’t he noticed? They’d all been so busy lately but still…
“Have you felt like this all week?”
“It’s just a bad cold, I’m working through it, that’s all! You need me!” Merlin shook him off and stumbled backwards, tripping over the rug and landing in a heap.
Lying there in Arthur’s chambers no longer able to pretend to anybody that everything was fine and dandy he was suddenly overcome with a great fatigue and a deep desire to simply sleep forever and never move again. He gave a soft groan as his eyelids flickered shut.
Another tremor shook him and Arthur quickly knelt by his side. He put his hand gently on Merlin’s forehead and immediately removed it, the last time Merlin had been that cold he had thrown himself in front of a Dorocha to save his life. Arthur would surely know about it if they had returned so this must be something else. He hadn’t heard about anyone else being reported with such symptoms but Merlin being struck down was more than concern enough to act.
He grabbed his red cloak off the back of a chair, bundled Merlin in it, and hurried him down to the court physician’s chambers himself.
Gaius startled as the door to his apothecary burst open and the king rushed in in his nightshirt carrying Merlin in his arms but collected himself in mere moments taking charge.
“Lay him down here,” he instructed, “what happened?”
“He sort of collapsed, he’s freezing cold,” he could see that Gaius wasn’t surprised.
“You knew he was ill,” it was only a half-hearted accusation, of course Gaius would know.
“He wouldn’t let me tell you, he was sure he could get through it,” he said as he threw a couple of blankets over Merlin’s shivering body and tucked them in.
Arthur just nodded gazing down at the suddenly very fragile looking figure lying on the bed. His first thought was, ‘idiot! He really should take better care of himself,’ but it was quickly followed by a large pang of guilt.
Diplomatic envoys with all their bureaucracy, reams of paper and horribly dry speeches always made him tetchier than normal and he knew he had a tendency to spread that bad mood around with a big shovel. He had run Merlin ragged over the past week without a thought and he knew just how he would have reacted if Merlin had asked for time off for illness.
“This is no cold, is it?” he said, more of a statement than a question.
“Not like I’ve ever seen, no.”
“The Dorocha?”
“No, I think we’d know about that by now, they don’t generally affect just one victim.”
He turned to stoke the fire and drop some herbs into a bubbling pot before moving to the shelves and selecting a heavy tome. He flicked through the pages as the minutes dragged on. He got another book down.
Arthur was beginning to get impatient.
“So, what is the cause? Is it a disease or an enchantment?”
“I honestly don’t know, I haven’t been able to find anything else to explain such symptoms.”
Gaius looked up at him so helplessly that Arthur immediately regretted his outburst; Merlin was the closest thing Gaius had to a son, of course he had already been looking into it, and if there was a cause for his condition that could be ascertained and a cure for it that could be found he was sure Gaius would find it.
And Arthur, for his part, would do whatever was necessary to help him get better but he did have to think of the rest of the kingdom as well.
He softened his voice.
“Ok, do you think I should quarantine the castle, is, whatever this is, going to spread?”
“No, Merlin’s been out and about in the town and castle for a whole week and no-one’s become infected.”
He sat next to his ward despondently, taking his marble white hand feeling for a pulse, he found one but it was slow and sluggish, he rubbed it gently in an attempt to warm him, “it seems to be just him.”
Arthur had a horrible thought, “you don’t think any of our guests…” but no, Merlin was just a servant, to everyone else at least, what kind of vendetta could they possibly have against him?
Gaius sighed.
“To me it feels more like magic than poison or disease but that is only a guess, I’ll keep you informed of any change in his condition.”
Even Arthur knew that that was physician’s code for ‘go away and let me treat my patient in peace’ and so tactfully nodded his acknowledgement and went to finally finish getting dressed.
An almighty shiver shook Merlin back into unpleasant consciousness. With great effort he managed to move his head to where Gaius was making dinner and medicines over the large stew pot. He felt Merlin’s gaze on him and hurried over to him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting down in the chair beside him.
“I’m s s s so cold,” he stammered.
“I know my boy, I know,” Gaius murmured sympathetically, placing a warm hand comfortingly on his icy one.
“Here, drink this,” he said holding a cup to Merlin’s lips. From the wisps of steam rising from it he could see that it was supposed to be warm but as he slowly sipped at it he couldn’t feel it.
Gaius briefly glanced at the door and lowered his voice.
“Can you use your magic? Do you know what’s happening to you? Who did this?”
Merlin closed his eyes for a moment; his magic was still there; he could conjure fire if he wanted to but he knew it wouldn’t help him. He looked inward for signs of outward enchantment; there might have been a tiny signature around his heart but the effort of grasping for it exhausted him and he lost it. He opened his eyes wearily.
“There’s something there… some spell… I don’t know. Please, Gaius, I’m so tired… so tired.”
“Shh, It’s quite alright Merlin, you sleep.”
His eyes flickered shut again but it was evident by the way they continued to move under the lids that he mostly did so in the hope that his body might take the hint.
In his mountain lair Mawdryn smiled evilly as he gazed into his scrying bowl at Merlin lying pallid and sickly in the bed. Good, phase one was complete, no more would he give aid to their enemies. But his punishment was far from over. He had driven ice into the young warlock’s heart, now he would drive it into his mind. Once more he began to chant.
Sheer exhaustion had finally dragged Merlin into the dark depths of sleep but still he found no rest. The image of a small boy with unsettling blue eyes appeared, staring accusingly at him.
“Why did you turn against me?” he asked.
Merlin was confused his brain clouded.
“I didn’t, I helped you escape.”
“You betrayed the great purpose to try and ensure my death.”
Finally, Merlin remembered what he was talking about and just who this little boy would grow up to be. A turbulent whirl of emotions filled his head; guilt, anger, frustration, sadness.
“You’re destined to kill Arthur; I am sworn to protect him.”
“You are sworn to protect your magical heritage, Arthur is only important because he will make reparations for his father’s cruelty and bring magic back to the land, he is a means to an end, nothing more.”
In the dream Merlin shook his head. “No, you’re wrong, he’s more than that, he is a great king, a wise ruler,” he hesitated briefly, “he’s important to me,” he added quietly.
“Am I important to you?” another figure asked, it was Morgana looking fresh faced and innocent as she had before she had turned to darkness.
“We could have been friends too you know.”
“You made your choice, you betrayed Camelot.”
“Camelot betrayed me. You betrayed me! You betrayed us! You should have been fighting with me not against me. Together we could have freed magic. You could have ruled by my side.”
“I don’t want to rule anything. You would rule by fear and violence and oppression, you would be just as bad as Uther ever was.”
“Arthur would hate you if he ever found out what you were, that you’d lied to him all these years.”
That one hit hard because he didn’t disbelieve it, he knew it to be true, but he would serve by Arthur’s side regardless; it was his destiny and he was proud to do it. And yet the weight of that acknowledgment suddenly felt a great burden. Even if magic returned would he still have to hide forever?
“How many more have to give their lives before you finally achieve the task you have been set?” Mordred challenged.
Faces materialised in front of him; Freya, the first woman he had truly loved, Balinor, the father he had never known, Lancelot, a true friend who had accepted him for who he was. If it wasn’t for the magic ban they might still be alive.
“You killed them,” Morgana rebuked him, “you are sabotaging your own efforts in order to save your beloved Arthur but he can’t be saved!”
“No! Leave me alone! Let me go!”
He woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, his breathing laboured and his body shaking.
Gaius was by his side in an instant, murmuring soothing words and gently mopping the cold perspiration from his forehead with a towel.
But despite all of his ministrations Merlin’s condition did not improve, his days tormented by the ever present chill and his nights by haunting memories of fallen friends and terrible decisions until he didn’t know which was worse.
As the weeks dragged on he got tired of simply lying in bed and used all his strength to wrap himself in blankets and move to a chair by the now constant fire where Gaius would bring him books to read but even that much would quickly exhaust him and he often fell asleep there until inevitably he was woken from yet another nightmare.
Gaius convinced him to move back to the bed so he could more easily look after him as he continued to search for any possibility of a cure, even trying some magic of his own when he was absolutely sure they were alone, but there was nothing more he could do to alleviate Merlin’s suffering and it broke his heart.
Surely this state couldn’t continue indefinitely. Merlin had stopped shivering at all which meant that his body could no longer fight against whatever this was by itself and he had observed the sweat on Merlin’s brow would sometimes freeze into ice crystals, surely such a condition would kill the patient sooner or later. He desperately prayed against such an outcome but it just seemed so cruel that he be kept like this. Whoever had inflicted this on him was truly evil and if they were here right now Gaius would’ve killed them himself.
The knights popped by every so often. They were terribly fond of Merlin and wanted to help him in whatever way they could and, although Gaius often sent them on errands to get this or that, which they gladly did, they were just as despondent as he was that nothing seemed to work.
Gwen came by occasionally but she couldn’t bear to see him like this for long, for all that she wanted to be there for him.
One day she sat by his bedside, holding his hand and idly talking about castle affairs, he was trying his hardest to listen but the cold made it difficult to concentrate.
“I’m so sorry Gwen,” he whispered, which was all he could manage these days, “but I’m rather tired, would you mind coming back another time?”
“Of course Merlin, whatever you want,” she said, hastily wiping at the tears that ran down her cheeks as she got up to go.
He hated to send her away or any of them, they were all so well meaning and compassionate and they only wanted to help, but he knew there was no help and he didn’t want them to be so saddened on account of him.
Over a month had passed by this point and, with no prospect of a natural or supernatural end to his suffering one way or the other, there was now only one thing he wanted and only one person who could give it to him but Arthur was nowhere to be seen.
Gaius had kept him informed about Merlin’s deteriorating condition and encouraged him to visit him but he had brushed him off with court matters that needed dealing with. The knights had tentatively suggested it, sure that he wouldn’t get the chance to if he didn’t do so soon. Gwen had done a bit of pestering but still he was reluctant and he wasn’t entirely sure why.
Merlin had grown greatly in his estimation since he had met him, he may be clumsy and accident prone and not know one end of a sword from the other but he had a strange wisdom that made him seem unfathomably older than he appeared. He had saved Arthur’s life on a number of occasions and maybe that was why he was so reticent to go see him, he didn’t want to see his friend suffer when there was nothing he could do; with no quest to go on or ingredient he could fetch to make everything better he felt powerless to save him in turn and he was ashamed.
It was a selfish sentiment and Merlin deserved better so he reluctantly entered the physician’s chambers.
Gaius wasn’t there, temporarily away on some other errand. Merlin was lying motionless and unconscious in the bed, a frame of mere skin and bones, his skin snow white, his eyes sunk back in his head.
Arthur would have thought he was dead but for the small cloud of condensation he emitted with every shallow exhaled breath.
He sat down in the chair next to the bed unsure what to say.
“Merlin? Can you hear me?”
Merlin’s eyes snapped open, this was his one chance.
“Arth…ur,” he breathed.
“I would ask you how you feel but it would be pointless wouldn’t it?”
“Arthur… there’s something… I need you to do,” he said growing more animated than he had been in weeks almost feverish.
“Anything, I’ll do anything!”
“Just listen and believe me. I have magic… always have… ever since I was born.”
“Merlin, you’re delirious, I’m going to go find Gaius,” he rose from his seat but Merlin somehow scrambled from the bed leaning on a table for support.
“Watch,” he summoned up all his strength and conjured a small glowing orb in his hand which flickered and quickly went out. He sank down next to the fireplace and sat there hopefully, waiting for Arthur’s next move.
Arthur stood stock still in shock at what he had seen. Magic! He would never have imagined Merlin of all people capable of … his face hardened, Merlin had kept this from him for all these years, how many lies had he told? Was it all a lie?
“Why are you telling me this now?” he said, his voice like flint.
“Because I’m a sorcerer, all sorcerers must be put to death, you’ve got to burn me to death, promise me you’ll burn me!”
Horrified, Arthur felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Merlin had been driven mad by his illness and no wonder, surely not even the greatest knight could maintain their sanity under such an ordeal.
His anger dissipated immediately, replaced by a great compassion.
“I’m not going to do that Merlin.”
“You don’t understand, I released the dragon, I am responsible for your father’s death, you must call the guards, you must build the pyre.”
That last one gave him pause but Merlin could still see from his expression that he wasn’t going to get what he desperately wanted above all else.
“You said you’d do anything; this is what I want, anything to be warm again even if it kills me, anything’s better than this!”
Arthur could feel tears prickle his eyes, “I won’t see you executed Merlin.”
“Then cover your eyes!”
“No.”
“Then I’ll do it myself!” he lunged toward the fire in the hearth and plunged his hands in before Arthur could stop him, only succeeding in mildly burning both hands and lightly singeing his sleeves before Arthur managed to tackle him back holding him in his arms as he broke down into great body wracking sobs.
He hadn’t felt the fire.
It was all for nothing.
He let out a heart-wrenching scream and various objects sailed through the air; books flew off their shelves and Gaius’s glass medical flasks shattered.
Arthur could only hold on to Merlin as the raw despair exploded out of him laying waste to Gaius’s once tidy room.
Eventually there was no more within him and he lay limp and unconscious in Arthur’s arms.
Gaius chose that moment to walk through the door and stopped dead in his tracks.
“What on earth?!” he managed before catching sight of the two of them, hastily dumping the satchel he was carrying and hurrying to their side.
“What happened?!”
Arthur was rather shocked himself and looked down at Merlin. There was no denying he had magic now and it was a hell of a thing to come to terms with in such a violent manner.
He felt quite silly saying this after what he’d just seen but there wasn’t really any other way.
“Merlin has magic.”
Gaius just looked at him waiting for the rest.
“He told me, he thought if he told me I would burn him at the stake.”
Again, Gaius waited.
“He said he was responsible for my father’s death,” he looked up at Gaius’s inscrutable gaze. “Is that true?”
Gaius considered the two of them thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Help me get him back into bed and I will tell you everything as it really happened.”
It took most of the night to bring the king up to speed on what had actually happened over the past couple of decades and when Gaius had finished Arthur felt quite drained himself.
He looked down at Merlin lying so still in the bed and struggled to reconcile his preconceived notions of him as an inept but well-meaning and loyal manservant with his new knowledge of him as powerful sorcerer and yet committed protector and oftentimes saviour.
He suddenly recalled times of great fortune when rocks had fallen in the path of their enemy at just the right moment or a bush had rustled and caused a perfectly timed distraction. And of a glowing blue orb that lit his way up a sheer cliff face away from a horde of spiders when Merlin himself was dying of poison. How much had he relied on Merlin without ever knowing about it?
Right there and then he made some very important decisions, got up without a word, and left. There was suddenly much to do.
He didn’t visit again for another two weeks during which the castle became a veritable hive of activity but eventually he found the time to return, he had very good news for Merlin.
Gaius had told him that Merlin had barely woken again since that astonishing revelation and that it may be a sign that his strange illness was finally claiming his life but nevertheless, Arthur gently asked Gaius for some privacy and sat hopefully by Merlin’s side until he suddenly took a faltering gasp of air and weakly opened his eyes.
He was no longer really aware of the passage of time, for all he knew he had simply drifted off for a few moments, all he cared about was that he was still here, still existing in this state of living death, with Arthur still watching him and it occurred to him that he had been right all along.
“You truly do hate me,” he murmured.
“No, Merlin I really don’t.”
“You must do otherwise you would have an ounce of pity in your heart and put an end to this torture.
You’re right to hate me you know, the things I have done, the lies I’ve told over the years.”
“Merlin, I don’t hate you, I wish you could have told me earlier but I understand why you couldn’t. I think I understand a lot of things now.”
He wasn’t sure he cared anymore, let Arthur have his epiphanies, it wouldn’t change anything, nevertheless he moved his head to regard him with a deep apathy.
“Gaius told me what really happened all these years, what you’ve done for the whole kingdom not just me.”
He scoffed, “how I set a dragon on it and destroyed quite a chunk of it.”
“You made a promise; my father was wrong to have imprisoned it in the first place.”
Merlin persisted in the hope that this action would be beyond the pale, “how I killed your father.”
“Morgana killed my father, Gaius told me about the counter charm, you did all you could to save him despite what he would have done to you had he found out.”
“How I set Morgana on a path towards evil by telling her that she possessed magic and then leading your men to ambush and slaughter the druids I had suggested she seek help from.”
“You didn’t know we were following you, she was frightened and disoriented, you were trying to help one of your own as best you could.”
“Yeah and look how well that went, I had to poison her.”
“She would have destroyed all of Camelot, look Merlin,” with uncharacteristic fervour he took his hand, willing him to understand, “my father was the ultimate reason she turned out like that, his hatred of magic and the things he did to your people led to justifiable anger among some of them which led to such hatred of him that they became just as bad. I can see now that hatred just breeds hatred, they don’t deserve persecution at our hands and we don’t deserve persecution at theirs, which is why I have lifted the ban on magic, someone has to break the cycle and it’s got to be us.”
Despite himself Merlin felt quite moved, this was what he had wanted his whole life but for it to happen so suddenly was a shock.
“And I do mean us Merlin, I want you to be my chancellor for magic and court sorcerer. So, you see you’ve got to get better so that we can build that great golden age that you always envisioned.”
Merlin started to cry again.
“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” he shushed comfortingly.
“I could have convinced you of this several times over but each time I was sure it would go badly, I lied to you when I said you didn’t see your mother so you wouldn’t kill your father, I convinced you not to lift the magic ban when Mordred was dying because I thought that would result in his death and then he couldn’t kill you, I have done so many things that have turned out to be wrong and always against my own people.”
“Merlin, hey Merlin, look at me,” he turned his red rimmed eyes towards him, blurred as they were by tears.
“Merlin, I know how you feel, truly. You too are a great king in a sense, you have made terrible decisions that have come back to haunt you, that is the job of a king; to listen to the advice and then make the decisions that seem best and right in the moment and deal with the consequences later. No disrespect to Gaius but I can see that he wouldn’t truly understand what you have been going through, but I can, and I can help you bear that burden.”
“It’s no good Arthur, I’m not sure how long I can keep going like this,” after all this talk and emotions he was completely exhausted and his eyes slid shut. Arthur gripped his hand tighter, frantically.
“I sent out emissaries all across the land for magical healers! As many as it takes! They’re coming to save you. Don’t give up, please Merlin!”
He gave no answer and Arthur was left listening to his ragged breathing willing it not to stop.
It didn’t but nor did he wake again and so when, a few days later, he was borne on a litter to a neutral spot of a forest clearing close by where hundreds of magical practitioners had gathered, warily, from all corners of the kingdom he was insensible to the outpouring of love, concern and aid gladly given to him by so many strangers.
Arthur, Gaius, and the Round Table Knights looked on anxiously as herbs were burned, spells cast and potions brewed without effect.
However, among their number, unnoticed, Mawdryn skulked muttering counter incantations under his breath.
He hadn’t envisioned this outcome, magic was legal again and it was all his doing but he couldn't tell anyone! Emrys was definitely going to die for this and he was going to make absolutely sure of it.
He sidled over to a cauldron attended by a pair of druids and surreptitiously slid a vial of poison from his pocket but before he could tip the contents in one of them looked up.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
Mawdryn fumbled the vial and it fell on the ground, he darted desperate glances towards the warlock’s inert body surrounded by people and felt the knife at his belt, could he get through them?
The other druid unstoppered the small flask and took a small sniff.
“Poison!”
In desperation Mawdryn unsheathed his knife and lunged toward the litter where Merlin lay but was rapidly disarmed and held back by half a dozen people. The commotion stopped everyone in their tracks and Arthur approached the restrained man.
“What is going on?”
“This man tried to kill Emrys, Sire,” said the druid handing Arthur the vial, he gave it to Gaius who nodded confirmation that the man was telling the truth.
The sorcerer struggled against his captors, not taking his hate filled eyes off Merlin, but they held him fast.
Arthur struggled to keep his anger in check but managed to maintain an outwardly civil appearance, even something as grave as this required diplomacy.
“Why would you do this? What has he ever done to you?”
“He betrayed us all!” he spat, “he was supposed to put us back where we belonged; strong, powerful, instead he became a servant in the home of our enemy! He deserves everything he gets!”
The sheer venom in his words made Arthur pause, putting two and two together until his face grew red with rage.
“Did you do this to him?!”
“See, this is what your precious truce is based on, nothing’s changed! We’ll always be accused and persecuted. You cowards! Why don’t you fight! There’s more of us; we can take it all back.”
Not a single leaf rustled in the silence that followed.
“Heal him!” demanded Arthur, “reverse whatever it is you’ve done.”
“Never,” he snarled.
In a lightning flash Arthur drew his sword and very nearly ran him through then and there when one of the clan leaders cried, “Stop!”
“Give him to us, we will get what we need from him.”
Arthur held his sword-point at the man’s chest for a long moment as he considered this, no one had so much as murmured agreement at his rant, it did seem that this whole thing had been orchestrated by one lone madman but decades of learnt prejudice was hard to get over quickly.
“I will go and supervise, Sire,” said Gaius, well aware that they definitely needed this sorcerer alive if they were to have any hope of saving Merlin.
Arthur sheathed his sword and nodded his assent, watching with eyes full of fury as the man was dragged away.
It took a long time and the sun was beginning to set by the time they returned with their unconscious prisoner, however the purpose by which they went about their work gave Arthur hope that they had succeeded.
Merlin lay on his litter none the wiser as the druids, witches, warlocks, and sorcerers chanted about him but the ice that had been lodged within him began to melt and he at last started to shiver again.
“Take Emrys back and continue to tend to him,” instructed their self-appointed spokesman, “we will stay here for a while longer if you need us but he now should recover.”
“What about him?” Arthur gestured with distaste to the insensible man.
“He is your prisoner, but I advise you allow Emrys himself to be his judge if you want to set out on the right foot with our people.”
Arthur simply accepted this advice, it was right and just after all, and it indicated that they truly thought that Merlin would get better, which, for all he would desperately love to see this piece of scum die a protracted and painful death right now, Merlin’s life was his main concern.
Merlin was bundled in blankets and carried back to Gaius’s rooms where he started the slow, careful process of rewarming him with everyone happily lending a hand, relieved beyond words that their dear friend wasn’t going to die after all, until gradually the colour came back to his cheeks and he regained consciousness.
Arthur had offered to take over for a time while Gaius ran some other errands and had instructions to monitor Merlin’s condition and give him some pain killing medicine if he woke up.
He was sitting at Merlin’s bedside, idly flicking through one of Gaius’s books looking at the pretty pictures, when Merlin opened his eyes.
He turned his head and immediately regretted it as he felt a great fiery sensation course through his body, like the worst case of pins and needles he’d ever experienced.
Arthur was prepared for this; Gaius had said that even the healing process might be painful to Merlin and he gently but firmly held him still on the bed.
“Merlin, lie still, don’t try to move, it will pass.”
Arthur cautiously took the cup of medicine off the table and lifted it to Merlin’s lips.
“Here, drink this, I’m told it’ll help with the pain.”
For once he did as he was told and did his best to ignore the burning in every nerve and bit by bit it subsided.
“So, you found the cure then?” he asked staring up at the ceiling, as much for something to say as anything else. The answer was obvious since he could feel something other than ice.
“Yes, it was an enchantment, cast by a mad sorcerer with a grudge against you personally.”
Merlin wished he could see Arthur’s expression but didn’t dare move again.
“What do you remember?” Arthur asked tentatively.
Merlin scoffed, “cold so bad I wanted to be burned alive,” his features suddenly clouded at the memory and he felt very afraid; surely that bit hadn’t been real, a figure of speech only.
“Why? What did I say? What did I do?!” he jerked frantically, certain that his recovery was some cruel mercy and that he would now be killed for a different reason. But again, Arthur put a restraining hand on his shoulder and spoke soothingly to him.
“Ssh Merlin it’s okay, I know about your magic but it’s fine, in fact it’s more than fine it’s going to be great.”
“It wasn’t a dream then?”
“No Merlin, magic is legal once more and it’s all down to you and I for one will certainly never deride you and your capabilities ever again.”
“Never?” Merlin asked with a hint of mischief so very welcome after being absent so long.
“Well, almost never,” Arthur grinned back.
Merlin’s features darkened again, “but it wasn’t really my doing was it? It was his.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked although he had a pretty good idea.
“If I hadn’t got so sick and desperate I would never have told you, always too afraid of how you’d react.”
“Don’t talk like that, I’m sure you’d have found an opportunity.”
“But when? How many more years or decades would it have taken?”
“No, no, thinking like that won’t help you, just focus on getting better, that’s all I care about.”
“What are you going to do with him?”
Arthur looked unsure, uncertain whether or not to tell him.
“Your people want you to decide, but he can absolutely stay where he is for now.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m definitely not telling you that until you’re properly better and that’s an end of it.”
That meant that he knew, which meant he was in the castle dungeons so Merlin didn’t protest but settled back to sleep, he’d go looking some other time.
Only a few days later and using a sturdy cane to walk with he got up and snuck out to find the man who had tortured him for over two months.
Using years of practice, he surreptitiously gathered scraps from the kitchen on a plate and slowly took them down to the dungeon cells, frequently having to stop and rest as he did so.
He quickly worked out where he was being kept, as of course he would; the deepest, darkest cell Arthur could find.
He left the cane by the door and managed to get down the stairs unassisted.
“Food for the prisoner,” he called as brightly as he could, a pair of guards had been permanently posted to this cell round the clock and they looked up at the sudden interruption of the monotony. That was all Merlin needed, his eyes glowed faint gold, just enough for a bit of mesmerism.
“You are being relieved, I am the next shift, go and get some lunch.”
The guards blinked uncertainly and simply got up to go chattering amongst themselves, paying Merlin no mind at all.
He watched them go until he couldn’t hear their voices anymore and turned to the prisoner.
“I really have brought you some food, it’s not much I’m afraid.”
He passed the plate under the door and stepped swiftly back, leaning on the guards’ table for support, not being quite foolish enough to actually open the cell.
Mawdryn looked at him with unconcealed hatred.
“Why are you here? Have you come to gloat?”
“No.”
“Well have you come to release me?” he demanded.
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Merlin sat heavily on a stool with a sigh, “I don’t really know; to thank you, curse you? I suppose I just want to understand.
Why did you do it?”
“Emrys they call you, great leader, saviour. I’ve watched you your whole life, you are weak, a mere servant to a tyrant’s son. We deserve better than you, we need someone to overthrow Arthur’s power and put us back on top where we belong.”
“You wouldn’t want to be king; it’s really boring most of the time.”
“It’s our birthright!”
“I don’t envy anyone who has to rule, it’s no fun to be responsible for a whole kingdom’s worth of people. Ensuring everyone is clothed and sheltered and fed and watered even in times of famine and drought. Maintaining trade and diplomatic relations with other kingdoms, knowing when to offer concessions and when to prepare for war.
You think force solves everything? You can be as militaristic as you like, eventually you have to actually govern what you’ve won, which is a lot harder than the conquest.”
Mawdryn just stared at him in frosty silence as Merlin continued almost to himself.
“You’re right about one thing though, I could have acted earlier, I should have been bolder, I should have trusted that Arthur wasn’t his father, that he would forgive me.”
“It’s not him you should be begging forgiveness from! Your foolish choices condemned more of our kind to imprisonment and death.”
“Do you think I don’t know that! Your nightmares only worked because I was already torturing myself over the choices I’ve made. You think I was unaffected? All you did was watch; you never felt what I felt, you didn’t lose what I lost.”
“You lost nothing!”
“I lost everything! Over and over again, a father, friends, possibilities for a simple, happy, boring future I could never have because I was destined for this stupid ‘great purpose.’ There were countless times I would have given you this burden in a heartbeat but it would not be a kindness to you, it would be the harshest curse I could think of. And now I’ve got to work out what to do with you.”
Merlin’s eyes hardened, “perhaps I’ll just let you rot in here.”
He stood and shakily made his way back up the stairs and shut the door heavily behind him.
“Feel better?” asked Arthur leaning against the opposite wall.
Merlin just looked at him and he had the decency to seem at least a little shamefaced.
“I knew there was no way I could keep you away so I decided not to bother this time.”
Merlin hobbled over to him and slid down ‘til he was sitting on the floor. Arthur joined him.
“What should I do?” he asked, “there are bound to be others out there who agree with him, if he is executed they’ll think of him as a martyr, if I let him go he will turn followers against us, if he stays in his cell he may be rescued or break out.”
“Merlin, as far as we can tell he’s just one lone fanatical madman, no army or devoted cult of acolytes.”
“We don’t know that though, I’m at those damned crossroads again, any road I choose could be the wrong one and I have no idea which one it’s going to be.”
“I’m so sorry Merlin, I wish I could have helped you before but know that now, whatever you choose, I will support your decision wholeheartedly and whatever consequences arise we will fight them together and I will not blame you for them.”
Merlin looked up at him uncertainly, “You promise?”
“I promise,” he said with utter sincerity.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Arthur spoke up with a devilish smile.
“Of course, I will be wanting my breakfast tomorrow morning, the servant I had to take on in your place was even worse than you.”
“Even worse than me, wow, that’s saying something,” Merlin rejoindered, grinning back.
“Yeah, perhaps not, maybe I’ve just forgotten how rubbish you were.”
“Hey, watch it, I could turn you into a toad anytime I like now you know.”
Arthur got him in a playful headlock and ruffled his hair.
“Yeah right, I'd like to see you try.”
“You clotpole,” laughed Merlin.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that but it made him believe that, for the first time in a long time, everything was finally right with the world.