#merlin wont let arthur kill his father but neither of them want him on the throne

[justaz]

merlin dashes into the throne room and finds arthur with his sword poised above his father’s chest and simply reacts. his magic lashes out and wraps around arthur, freezing him and tugging him back away from his father. arthur and uther both turn their gazes toward merlin (uther turns his head while arthur peers out of the corner of his eye) who stands with his arms outstretched and his eyes gold. now exposed, merlin sort of panics and says the first thing that comes to mind, barely able to think of some lie to explain it all away, and says he won’t let arthur do it. his magic loosens around arthur so he is able to move his body though his feet won’t budge from their spot. similarly, uther can’t stand from his throne. arthur insists he wants uther dead (too enraged to even bother addressing merlin’s magic), uther spits about how morgause and merlin are manipulating arthur and warping his mind, and merlin is pleading with arthur to calm down and think things through.

[cupcakezys]

Accusations.

First. Previous.

Read on AO3.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur.

Summary: Uther wasn’t sure what to think when a sorceress interrupted the feast by flinging the hall doors open so hard they almost flew of their hinges. He was, of course, annoyed and angry at the interruption, even more so when he saw the crazed old woman glaring at him with golden eyes. He was also perhaps a little bit afraid when she wailed and ran at him, moving faster than should be possible with a jagged dagger in her hands. Most of all, however, he was shocked and furious when, upon being caught by the knights standing close to his side, the sorceress turned to his son and screamed, for the whole room to hear. “You! You traitor, traitor to your own kind, your kin! How dare you sit here next to this murderer, when the blood of the wolf pumps through your veins!”

Shock rippled around the room, and Uther felt himself flush with anger as the whisper went up, all eyes on Arthur. On his son, their Crown Prince.

Werewolf.

Uther glared at them, then at the old woman, limp now in in his knights’ grip. He motioned for them to take her away, fury bubbling deep inside him. How dare this wench threaten him, try to kill him, and then accuse his son of something so outlandish. He turned to Arthur, fully expecting to see his anger mirrored in his eyes.

But Arthur. Arthur was gripping his right arm, the arm Uther knew had been mauled by a wild dog years ago on some patrol, while looking panicked and pale. He paused. Had it been a wild dog bite at all? Or… had it been something else entirely? He didn’t want to even consider it, but Arthur was hardly concealing his distress at the accusations.

He came to a decision. “The feast is over for the night. Everyone is to leave, immediately.” His people nodded and bowed, making their way towards the doors. He nodded to the servants and guards, a clear signal for them to leave as well. Arthur made to stand up, but Uther put a hand on his shoulder. “Not you Arthur. I’d like to speak to you in private.”

Arthur gulped, looking nothing short of completely terrified. Uther caught Morgana sending Arthur a look, one full of concern and questions, even as she stood and made her way from the room. There was only one that wasn’t moving, one that had made his way closer to Arthur and was glancing between him and Uther nervously.

“That means you too boy.” Uther snapped. “Out.”

Merlin dropped his eyes to the ground, for once looking like an actual servant, but didn’t actually move until Arthur stood up and pushed him towards the door with a quiet. “Go.”

He shot one more worried glance at Arthur, stared Uther in the eyes for a brief moment, and then bowed his head and walked out of the room. The doors boomed shut behind him.

Arthur was silent, looking down at his shoes, something Uther hadn’t seen him do since he was a small child.

Uther sighed and turned around, not looking at his son when he asked. “Why would she accuse you of something so outlandish?”

He heard Arthur’s sharp intake of breath, knew he had stepped forward. “Father-“

Uther turned back to him. He’d never seen Arthur look so afraid. He reached out and gripped Arthur’s arm, ignoring the flinch, and pulled his sleeve up so he could see the scar there. It was a long, jagged line, unidentifiable and long healed.

“I remember the night you got this.” He said quietly.

Arthur looked at him in surprise. “You do?”

Of course he did. It was one of the few times that Uther was forcibly reminded of his sons’ mortality. “Gaius thought you’d loose your arm at best, your life at worst.”

Arthur nodded, staring at his scar. Uther tightened his grip on Arthur’s arm. Steeled himself.

“It wasn’t a wild dog, was it?” Arthur tensed further, opening and closing his mouth without saying anything. Uther growled. “Don’t lie to me.”

Arthur shook in his grasp, refusing to meet his eyes. Uther saw him glance at his hip, where his sword would be if he were carrying it. That one look sent something like shame stab at his heart. He didn’t want his son to ever fear him.

“No.” Arthur whispered, voice shaking. “No, it wasn’t a dog.”

Uther gripped his shoulders, trying and failing to make Arthur meet his gaze. “It’s been years since then Arthur. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Arthur gulped, nervous and determined all at once, looking so like his mother it hurt. “The law is clear.”

Uther remembered then, vividly, each and every time he’d executed a werewolf, Arthur at his side. He remembered every speech, every rant, all the times he had warned Arthur of the corrupt evil of magic and magical creatures, especially werewolves.

He didn’t feel guilt often, didn’t allow himself to, but this, this guilt he felt keenly.

“You are my son, Arthur.” Uther said, trying to put as much apology into the words as he could. “I’ve told you before, you are more precious to me than any other in this world. Nothing can change that.”

“Not even this?” Arthur asked, gripping his arm over the scar.

“No.” Uther said, because it was the truth. He loved his son, this small piece of Igraine that Uther had managed to keep. He refused to lose that, to lose him. “No, Arthur, not even this.”

For a moment, Uther thought he might cry. He hadn’t seen Arthur cry since he was very small, and, quite honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. Comforting people had never been his strong point, but it was easy to comfort young children with a small treat or distraction, something he doubted would work on Arthur now.

Thankfully, his son swallowed back his tears, and instead a fierce sort of determination filled his eyes. “The law cannot be different just for me Father. It can’t.”

Uther sighed, felt the crown on his head grow heavy. “Arthur.”

“No!” Arthur broke away from him, backed up a step. “It’s not fair, not just! I cannot sit comfortably knowing I’m above the law while others like me die.”

Uther swallowed, hard. There were some things he had hoped to keep from his son. He didn’t want him knowing the horrors of the times before his birth, the things that Uther had seen and done in equal measure. Now, though, it may be the only thing that could convince Arthur of the necessity of the law, even if it made an exception with him.

“Sit down Arthur.” Uther gestured to his chair, then sat himself. “There are things you much know. Things I was hoping I would never have to tell you.”

Arthur sat, albeit hesitantly.

“In the years I ruled before you were born, Camelot was full of war, and horror, and death. Our biggest threat was magic.” He began. Arthur had heard this, was impatiently shifting in his seat, but he didn’t interrupt. “Even before magic had been banned, there were some unhappy with my rule. Every full moon, a large group of werewolves and sorcerers would attack Camelot, or the surrounding villages. People were dying, and I had to do something.”

“Is that why you kill them?” Arthur asked, quiet and subdued. “Why you banned magic?”

Uther inclined his head. “Partly.” Arthur was silent, so Uther continued. “Magic is evil, son. It corrupts, even those that started out using it with the best intentions. I’ve seen it happen too many times. It turns people into thieves and liars, makes them crave power that is not theirs to hold.”

Uther remembered all too well the way dark magic ran rampant in his youth. How sorcerers used their magic to deceive and kill. To hurt those that were dear to him.

He would never forget Nimueh and her deception.

Arthur had begun to frown as he spoke, a thoughtful look on his face. “Surely there would be some that weren’t… corrupted. That resisted using magic for evil?”

Arthur was hesitant, but such thoughts at all were dangerous. “If there were, and I do not believe there are, we could not risk leaving them be.” Arthur looked up, eyes sharp and angry, so Uther quickly said. “How would we know if they truly were free of corruption? How could we be sure they weren’t simply lying, waiting for the perfect time to strike?” He shook his head. “We cannot afford to trust people on their word Arthur, especially not these people. It will only end in heartbreak. They must be eradicated, until magic is nothing more than a faint nightmare. Only then will we be safe.”

Arthur worked his jaw, clearly wanting to say something. Eventually, he spat out. “And me? What does any of this have to do with sparing me? All you’ve said is just proving you should follow the law and kill me.”

“No, Arthur, don’t you see?” Uther leaned forward, trying to make his son see. See that he wasn’t the same as them, see that Uther trusted him despite this. “You are my son, and I trust you. You aren’t like others – you are strong, you wont allow yourself to be corrupted. You did not choose this.”

“Neither did most other werewolves!” Arthur yelled, and Uther winced because, well, he had been trying to avoid actually naming Arthur as such. “What of the others like me, the ones that were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, that were bitten and changed against their will? You kill them all the same!”

“Because they cannot be trusted!” Uther yelled back, his temper flaring. “I will not allow them the freedom to run around and wreak havoc on my kingdom. I cannot allow any more innocent people to die because of something I could have prevented!”

“So you would just kill them all, including the innocent, rather than just those found guilty?”

Uther heart hardened. “It is a sacrifice that must be made.”

Arthur stared at him, fury and hurt radiating off him in waves. He stood up abruptly and stalked away towards the doors. Uther sat and watched him go, surprise freezing him for a moment.

He shook it off, stood, and yelled. “Arthur!”

His son ignored him. Uther thought about letting it go for a moment, thought about giving them both the chance to calm down, but this was something he needed Arthur to understand. He was too kindhearted, too dedicated to saving everyone, too much like his mother, damnit, and one day it would get him killed. Uther would rather see his kingdom fall, would rather throw himself on his own blade before he let that happen. Arthur needed to understand.

Sometimes you couldn’t save everyone, and sometimes people had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

Uther stood and chased after Arthur.

Besides that, Uther was already planning on ways to try and find a cure. He was, of course, aware that no existing medicine could cure a werewolf bite. He knew no magic could undo this curse, knew that it was something many had tried and failed to do in the past. But he was King Uther Pendragon, and he knew his stubbornness and determination had helped him achieved the impossible in the past. It was how he had won his crown, how he ruled and almost eradicated the threat of magic in his kingdom. It was how he kept the peace.

He stopped outside Arthur’s door. He went to open it and hesitated. It was slightly ajar, and Uther could hear the quiet voices of his son and manservant inside. He narrowed his eyes and pressed his head against the door, trying to spot the two young men.

He found them standing by the fire. Merlin had his arms wrapped around Arthur in a lover’s embrace, while his son shook and clung to the servant like he was about to fly apart. He was torn between storming in, chastising Arthur for showing his emotions, for leaving himself vulnerable and open to hurt, and stepping back and leaving them to heir moment, a moment he knew was more than that of a prince and his manservant, or even a prince and his bedwarmer.

His indecision left him standing awkwardly at the door.

“He didn’t kill you” Merlin said, startling him.

It didn’t take much to figure out they were speaking him about him. Somehow, Uther wasn’t at all surprised that the boy had already known Arthur’s secret.

“No.” Arthur mumbled back, face hidden in one of those atrocious neckerchiefs the boy was so fond of.

“And he isn’t going to kill you.”

“No.”

Merlin smiled thinly and ran a hand through Arthur’s hair. “You didn’t think he would.”

Uther was horrified to hear his son sob. “I did, for a moment.” Silence, then. “You thought he might.”

Merlin frowned, hand still playing idly with Arthur’s hair. “I was worried. Can you blame me?”

“No.” Arthur finally moved his face, tilted it so he was staring at Merlin’s neck. “What are we going to do now?”

“Now?” Merlin grinned, pressed his lips to Arthur’s in a quick kiss. Uther raised his eyebrows. “Now, I’m going to get all your favourite foods, draw you a nice hot bath and get you into your frankly huge bed.”

Arthur chuckled weakly. “I’m the prince Merlin.”

“And that means you get a bed bigger than my room?” Merlin asked, all cheek.

Arthur laughed, small and fragile but there. “My bed is not bigger than your room.”

“How would you know?” Merlin grinned. “You’ve been in my room, what, twice?”

“And you’ve been in my bed, what, a hundred times?” Arthur mocked, grinning himself now.

Merlin laughed and pushed Arthur away slightly, just far enough to look Arthur in the eyes. “Hardly, your highness. Now, shall I go acquire your dinner?”

“Our dinner.” Arthur corrected, pulling back until only their hands were touching, fingers intertwined. “Stay with me tonight?”

Uther had never seen Arthur looked so nervous, so vulnerable. He had been taught how to hide his emotions from a young age, and even Uther was only privy to Arthur’s genuine emotions on rare occasions. To see it shown here, so freely, made Uther ache. He remembered a time when he had someone to be that vulnerable around, to let the king fade away and leave only the man behind.

“Of course.” Merlin said, guiding Arthur to a chair by the fire. He pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “I won’t be long.”

Uther moved back as Merlin approached the door. He allowed himself to melt into the stone of the castle wall, a small nearby nook hiding him almost completely. The servant didn’t even glance in his direction, so intent on his task.

Something, Uther didn’t know what, compelled him to step forward.

Merlin had gotten only a few steps from the door when Uther reached him. “Boy.”

The servant jumped and turned, almost tripping over his own feet. Uther had no idea what his son saw in him. “Your-your majesty!”

Uther stared, face void of emotion as the Merlin stared back. “You knew.” The boy stuttered, trying to deny it even as he pretended to have no idea what Uther was talking about. “Enough!” Uther interrupted, keeping his voice low so Arthur didn’t hear. “Do not dare lie to your king.”

Merlin swallowed, nodded. “Yes sire.” Uther stared, unimpressed. Merlin glanced down. “That is- yes, yes I already knew.”

Uther nodded. “For how long.”

“Um.” Merlin looked back up at him, considering. “Five months?”

Five months. Arthur has told this servant, whom he hadn’t even known for a year, his secret five months ago, when he hadn’t dared tell his own father after three years. Uther felt horrible, and a little jealous. What made this boy, this servant, so special, so trustworthy? What did Arthur see in him?

Uther stepped closer, eyes hard, as much a father as he was the king. “I don’t think I need to tell you that if you were ever to use this information to hurt Arthur or Camelot, you would be executed before you could even regret your treachery.”

Determination, fierce and hot as fire, flashed in his eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt Arthur.”

And Uther knew he meant it. And suddenly, he knew exactly what Arthur saw in Merlin. He wore his emotions openly, happily, for all to see. From there, it was easy to see Merlin’s dedication, his loyalty, his love. There was no faking those emotions. Uther knew that well.

“Good.” Uther nodded, stepped back. Merlin looked at him, waiting to be dismissed, even as he bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. “You may go.”

Merlin bowed his head, just barely respectful, and turned to go. Uther hesitated.

“Merlin.” The servant turned back. Uther nodded to him. “Thank you for looking after him.”

Merlin’s face slackened in surprise, before a small, almost knowing smile grew on his face. Uther had thought he was too simple to really know how significant those words were, but he was beginning to understand that Merlin was much more than he seemed. Arthur’s trust and, yes, his love, were proof enough of that.

“Of course sire.” Merlin said seriously. “It is my duty.”

To the one I love went unsaid, but Uther heard it, knew the exact sentiment in his very soul.

He nodded to himself, and went to his rooms. He could talk to Arthur again tomorrow. He would be well looked after tonight.

-

If you wish to support me, please consider donating to my PayPal. I’m struggling a little for money at the moment, so any donations would be greatly appreciated, and would allow me to write more, more often. :)

Here's the next part!