Since Birth

Chapter Twenty-One

As a child, Uther had told many stories to his son, the elements of said stories contained with scenes of bloodshed and a victory at the end of every one of them. But had he ever told Arthur of the lost battles? The peace treaties? No; had he even mentioned something crimson-free it would leave Arthur to think his father was drunk. Tyranny plagued his mind like minerals had in the soil below the blond's feet. Something that chipped away Arthur's thoughts though was the scenario of a pyrrhic victory. Surely the king had experienced that in his former days. The man pondered. His life. The beginning of Arthur's time. That had been a prime example. Consider it a victory? Uther had certainly believed it was a loss. A major one, at that. But as trepidation flooded throughout his body—nerves on high alert—he wondered if his father was experiencing another one right now.

"I know he's here, Arthur," the King's voice boomed. "My guards will find him soon enough."

The blond's head titled at different angles, trying to sought out the figure he and Merlin had been searching for through his cell. Alas, not another human was in sight. "He's not here," he mumbled in distress.

"He is, Arthur," Uther voiced, seeming to not understand the other meaning of his son's inward comment. "He won't escape the wrath of the pyre. He will join Balinor."

Arthur's jaw dipped, eyes flaying wide. Had his father...? The blond whipped his head to meet feral eyes. What had happened? The shred of hope he formerly had suddenly withered away, leaving cold excess to meander throughout his heart. What if his father had always been this way? Or was it because of his mother's death? He exhaled, at a current loss.

It began with Arthur.

And it would end with Arthur.

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Merlin had been born in a cave, so sneaking inside a castle had been considered a huge upgrade to him. Eyes glazing over the interior of Arthur's room, he let out a breath filled with awe. It was even bigger than his temporary chambers back in Eirdar.

With several pants, Arthur allowed a curse to fly through his lips, letting go of the rope that was in his grip. He paced for a solid minute, contemplating on the plans and decisions flooding his brain.

"Arthur?"

Said blond inhaled with closed eyes before moving in front of the brunet. "Merlin," he started slowly. "I want you to listen to me."

Anxiety etched a growing pattern onto Merlin's skin from Arthur's words. What was going to happen?

"I am going to go collect some more rope-" Merlin stared at said cord behind him—it clearly wasn't enough. They would sprain an ankle at the minimum with the height compared to it. But before another thought could enter his mind, Arthur pulled the younger man's chin with a steady hand to face him again. "Merlin, look at me."

A moment passed where the brunet stared, daring not to move a muscle, to let a breath escape. Those eyes were holding him in place, water rimming his lids starting at the tear duct. What was Arthur going to say?

"I want you to stay here. Don't follow me. But if you hear someone knocking on the door. Even standing outside, I want you to run. Run as fast as you can. And don't look back."

"Where will you be, then?" Merlin whispered, breathing heavily from the words his lover had just said to him.

"No," Arthur croaked. "You're not going to find me. You're going to go back to the druids...or somewhere safe. Somewhere my father would never find you."