Since Birth

Chapter Eight

Merlin was bad at swimming. He never truly understood why he would want to dive into the blue depths if his lungs restricted him from freedom in the midst of the course of action.

Peering with squinted eyes at the churning of water below, the brunet bit his lip in anxiety. Sure, he could use his magic, but what use was good of it if he couldn't even spot the damn object? Merlin huffed a breath of aggravation, slumping lower in his current stance, letting his hand drop to lap lightly with the river's surface. The rope was present behind him; casually laying against the shoots of grass with a limp expression. The brunet adjusted his sight to the ripples of water with a deep inhale. The currents weren't terribly fast. And it wasn't extremely cold to the touch. Perhaps he could retract his weapon? Smiling, a blush patterned his cheeks lightly when he was reminded of Arthur's offer to him. Merlin still had yet to understand why the blond would give him so much with his power and title. Giving a short sigh, he was about to leap into the water before a voice called at his name. With laced brows, the brunet turned, shock now expressed onto his features. "Father?"

"I was seeking your whereabouts," he spoke nonchalantly in reply, edging towards Merlin.

"Why?"

Balinor cut him with a glare. "Because I knew you were lying, Merlin."

Licking his lips, the son steered his sight away from his father, angling his head towards the river. Merlin was silent as Balinor took his time to take a seat beside the younger man, too staring at the river. The son was tempted to speak of Uther's name to his father, attempting to grasp for more information on why the man hated magic. Nevertheless, Merlin remained silent, his lips shut from the outside air.

"I am aware of what has been going on, son," he murmured loud enough for Merlin to hear. "You must not travel down this path."

"What path?"

"Don't act blind, Merlin. I clearly spotted the rope upon making my entrance."

Biting his tongue, Merlin whispered a curse, which didn't go unnoticed by his father. "It's so different over there," he mumbled somberly, dragging a finger through the weak rapids.

Balinor analyzed his son's expression with empathy. "Indeed it is."

"You have your reasons," Merlin suddenly sighed, shifting in his position. "And I have mine."

"You mustn't." When his son didn't reply, he released a mixture of a sigh and grunt. "I have been at this stage before, Merlin. I assume that's what your mother told you of yesterday?"

Merlin nodded. Lowering his head, brown bangs draped over his face as the young man stared at the river in thought. "Mother told me."

"Hunith didn't tell you everything, though."

Merlin whipped his head. "What?"

"There was one piece of information I never spoke to her of." Smoothing a hand over his tattered robes, Balinor looked up to the sky, recalling the former memories. "I never had the heart to tell her."

The son gulped, releasing a small breath. "What is it?"

"The man I met," the elder started, "was very kind. He gave me all I could ever ask for in the predicament I was in." He paused. "His name was Ethan."

"Mother told me he died saving you," Merlin mumbled, currently in slight surprise by his father's tone. He had always sounded happy. Sometimes stern. Never depressed.

"He did. But there was one thing I failed to speak of to Hunith after his death."

"What was it?"