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Arthur hated taking Merlin to the executions.
“-and for your crimes against the crown, your conspiracies with the devil and your acts of sorcery, I, King Uther Pendragon of Camelot, sentence you to death.” Uther’s hand dropped, and the executioner’s axe fell, leaving a shrill sound as it sliced the air. A thud filled the courtyard, and then the people began to murmur. Some cheered, loud shouts stabbing through the hushed whispers. Others didn’t, their heads were bowed and they covered their children’s eyes. Arthur had to do his best to look out for those who were too reluctant, too horrified to see the sorcerer die. They could harbour magic themselves, or be protecting others who did.
Arthur had to watch them all; he had to help his father on his quest to cleanse the kingdom. He hated to see his people suffer, hated them to die, and this was the only way to protect Camelot from corruption.
But Merlin was too young to understand the dangers magic created. He didn’t realize what a poison it was. Merlin was raised on the edges of Cenred’s Kingdom, and Cenred had a fascination with magic. He took the sorcerers of his kingdom, used them and manipulated them however he could before their executions. Merlin had probably grown up believing Sorcerers were valuable. In the small villages of Cenred’s kingdom, anyone with magic could be sold into the King’s slavery.
Merlin always shuddered when Sorcerers were executed. He’d tried to keep his back straight, stay brave, but Arthur could always see him wince and feel him shudder, as though Merlin himself was suffering a blow. He’d gotten better though. At the first execution Merlin had to witness, he curled himself into Arthur’s chest and tried to wrap the cape around himself.
“Come on, Merlin.” Arthur whispered, placing his hand on Merlin’s back. Merlin was staring down at the slumped body. Merlin’s eyes were wide, stance rigid, unmoving. He was like this sometimes, and it hurt Arthur. Merlin was kind, compassionate; he genuinely cared about everyone and everything. He had a soft heart. Arthur knew that Merlin needed to toughen up to survive, but it was so hard to see him like this. There were so many things about court life that were unfair to Merlin, things he hated to endure.
He must hate Arthur for it, at least a little.
“Merlin.” Arthur tried to make himself sound more firm. It was important that Merlin stopped looking the way he did before Uther noticed. The King was just looking for an excuse to get rid of Merlin. “Merlin, we’re going.”
Arthur gave Merlin a tug, and then let go like he’d been stung. His omega was shaking, and he was burning up. Merlin’s fingers were white, wrapped round the railing like he was holding on for dear life.
“Merlin!” Arthur was terrified, scared Merlin had been possessed or cursed or had fallen ill in those few seconds. Arthur grabbed hold of him again, and Merlin blinked.
“What?” Merlin turned away from Arthur. “What’s wrong?”
Arthur pulled Merlin close again, looked into his omega’s eyes. They were calm again. Merlin was squirming, annoyed at Arthur’s hands running all over him.
“Nothing.” Arthur said back, deciding to let it go. It had probably been nothing, he must have imagined it. Merlin was fine now, walking away from the edge without looking back, without wavering.
Arthur did the same, knowing Uther was watching their backs.
***
Merlin sat at the window, staring over the courtyard. It was dark, still, the glass was cold against his face and he could hear the wind whispering outside. There were fires burning in the courtyard, small flickers winding round the walls. It made Camelot look beautiful.
But it didn’t make Merlin forget what had happened out there. Even though the dark night shrouded the blood stains and the stage, Merlin knew what still stood. The blood on the cobblestones could never be cleaned; he’d remember every death for the rest of his life.
He felt his skin tingle, too tight and too hot. His eyes were dry, tongue too big for his mouth. He was getting nervous, feeling that *something* bubble up inside him again, feeling some kind of power rising.
He clenched his fist, trying to crush whatever it was. Nervous, sick, he felt bile rise in his throat and his lungs squeeze as his heart sped up and-
The glass pane cracked, and Merlin gasped. He fell off the seat and scurried away from the glass, horrified. He’d done that, again. He’d seen the gold flash in the glass before it cracked. Something had seeped out of him and he’d broken something. Again. Merlin had done something awful and Arthur was going to find out, going to kill him.
“Merlin?” Arthur sounded groggy, waking up from the sleep he’d been enjoying. The blankets rustled and Merlin ran over to jump on top of them, trying to stop Arthur seeing what had happened. “Merlin!”
“Calm down!” Arthur’s hands were scrabbling under the bed, looking for the weapon he always kept hidden. “It’s just me, Arthur!”
“What was that noise?” Arthur’s head poked out from under the covers, hair ruffled and face scrunched up form sleep. “What was that-”
“A, uh, bat flew in to the window and broke it.”
“A bat?”
“Yes.”
For a few seconds, Merlin thought that Arthur might argue. Might question how strange this whole thing was and finally realize what a liar Merlin was. Maybe he’d use the weapon anyway.
“Come back to bed. It’ll get fixed tomorrow.” Arthur rolled over, leaving a large space for Merlin to curl into. Merlin stood back, heart weakening at the sight of Arthur waiting for him. “Come on, I’m cold.”
“Cry baby.” Merlin whispered, crawling into the bed and wrapping them both up in the blankets.
“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur’s words were muffled into the pillow, his hands wrapping round Merlin’s waist. “I’m a big strong alpha. Not a baby.”