Merthur - The Blue Butterfly

Chapter 14 - Letting Go

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.

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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."