Heartquake

Heartquake 17

About halfway through his journey, he hears footsteps behind him. For a moment, for a silly moment, he hopes it’s Merlin but, of course, it’s not. It’s just some big thug that looks at his sword hungrily. He dismounts his horse and prods the man with his sword.

“You like it, then?” Arthur asks cockily. “Would you like it if I ran you through with it?”

“I wouldn’t do that, if I was you,” another voice says.

Arthur turns and there’s about half a dozen bandits snarling at him. The thug that was eyeing his sword puts his hand around Arthur’s throat, choking him, while the others ransack his horse and belongings.

Surely he make it out of this, he’s done more complicated things that escaping the hands of mere bandits.

But before he can even think up of a plan, the men are flicked away like hands by an invisible hand. The grip on his neck disappears as the man is knocked behind, landing into a muddy pond on his bottom.

He looks for the source of this, and finds it in a man, looking eerily like Merlin, but, different. His eyes are golden with power, and angry, and his hand outstretched with blue light. This isn’t his sweet Merlin, no, no, this isn’t him at all.

The blue light passes him and takes back Arthur’s belongings from the men and places them on his horse again. The light, he knows it, it protected him once, didn’t it?

Merlin’s eyes stop glowing and he breathes heavily. There’s a moment where he thinks he might jump into his arms and ravage him with kisses and apologies and explanations, but, Arthur does this stupid, stupid, thing and takes a hold of his sword.

Merlin scoffs at this and turns his back to him, mounting on the horse again, with an Emeline that looks sorry and sad, and, Gods, it takes everything in him, to just not go to her and hug her and tell her it’s going to be alright.

He looks at Arthur one last time, his eyes so hard, so emotionless that Arthur wonders if he ever knew Merlin at all, and says gravely, “It should make a difference when someone loves you.”

“You don’t need to leave,” Gaius tells him.

“Of course I do. Arthur knows, and he’ll tell Uther and Em and I are going to die, really soon,” Merlin says, packing his things into a rucksack. “I have to protect my daughter, above all else, Gaius.”

“You should have more faith in Arthur,” he says.

“He didn’t have much in me, dunno why I shouldn’t just return the courtesy,” Merlin walks around the room, checking his possessions.

“Merlin! Stop moving!” Gaius snaps. “Is there any part of you, at all, that still loves him, and wants to protect him, as it is your destiny to do?”

“Of course there is,” Merlin sits on the bed. “But the rest of me wants to leave, never see him again, and make sure my daughter is safe.” Gaius sits next to him and puts an arm around his shoulder.

“He isn’t the man I thought he’d be, Gaius. The man I love, the one that would accept me, he’s somewhere in there, I know he is, but he’s too much of a coward to let it out. I can’t wait for him to. I can’t wait for him to realize his mistakes and regretting sending me and Em to our deaths.”

There’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” Arthur says from his bed. He’s lying on his back, hands on his stomach, and eyes up.

“Arthur?” Morgana comes in.

“Morgana,” he lifts his head up but can’t bring himself to sit.

“Are you alright? We missed you at lunch,” she sits on his bed, stretching her legs, so her bare feet tickle his face. “I tried to ask Merlin about you, but he wasn’t much for talking. Is everything okay?”

There’s a spark that ignites in his chest from hearing Merlin’s name, and knowing he’s back in Camelot. Arthur shifts a little, putting his head on her legs, looking at her.

“Morgana,” he says slowly.

“Yeah?”

“I can trust you, right? With anything?”

“Arthur, of course.”

He breathes out and professes, “Merlin has magic.” Morgana’s face freezes in astonishment as Arthur keeps talking.

“So does Emeline. He says he’s been protecting me all this time, and I care for him, but Father…”

“Who cares what Uther will think?” Morgana asks.

“I get that defying his orders is your hobby, Morgana but-”