ONLY FOR YOU // Merlin/Merthur Oneshots

[clown emoji]

>> yeah i have nothing to say for myself

>> tw // minor torture??? like. magic and cold iron and stuff

merlin's not having a good time

yeah it's angst sue me but it has a happy ending

>> yes i know y'all love when i come out of the blue and drop pain on y'all

. . .

A layer of white, fluffy snow blanketed Camelot's rooftops and streets, decorated the pines of evergreens and dusted the hair of young children playing in the cold. Breath fogged out of mouths warmed by tea and freshly-baked honeybuns, eyes shining with cheer as an air of celebration spread through the kingdom. The sound of music floated through frostbitten ears, drifting up towards the castle.

Merlin heard the celebrations through a layer of stone and damp earth, head thumping backwards against the cold wall. He curled downwards, pressing his icy fingers to his lips in an attempt to stifle the hiccupped, choked sobs that were trying to escape his mouth.

His body was wracked with spasms, his magic screaming out in agony.

Cold iron burned welts into his wrists, the metal hissing against his skin, chaining his magic within himself.

He felt like his organs were trying to shrivel in on themselves.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the regret that split his heart in two.

He squeezed his eyes closed, biting down on his hand to muffle a jagged scream, his throat aching. Arthur's face flashed behind his closed eyes, imprinted forever in his memories. The broken look in his eyes, flashes of betrayal and heartbreak before becoming guarded and vengeful. The crack in his voice as he called for the guards to take Merlin to the dungeons. The way he turned his back on Merlin when the warlock begged for his forgiveness, begged for him to listen.

How Arthur had stood in the snow, motionless as Merlin was dragged away.

How Arthur had dropped to his knees, his head in his hands.

Now all he heard were the chains clamped around his wrists rattling against the ground as he shook violently, trying desperately to stay quiet. He didn't want any of the dungeon guards coming over to tell him to be quiet. He wouldn't be able to look them in the eye--not when he knew them all by name, not when he had seen them enough times around the palace to almost call them friends.

The silence, save for his own sounds, was unbearable, only tempered by the music from outside. Yet, it only served to make him aware of what he'd lost. He'd lost his closest friend, the friend he loved the most, more than anything. Arthur had seen him use magic with his own two hands, using them to create a whirlwind of snow to entertain the children.

Arthur had thought he was trying to hurt them.

Had he read it all wrong? Had he fooled himself into thinking that he and Arthur shared a bond that was stronger than friendship? He used to think that Arthur would understand, would be able to listen to him when he revealed his magic to the king. Maybe there would have been some tension, some walls put back in place between the two of them. But in the end, it still would have been Merlin and Arthur against the world. The king and his warlock.

How wrong it had gone.

Merlin was dragged out of his misery by the sounds of footsteps approaching his cell. He took in a shuddering breath, looking up just as someone appeared in front of the barred door, keys sliding into the rusted lock. He blinked away the fog clouding his vision, tears rolling down his cheek as he tried to see who was at the door. He was saved by a gruff voice announcing, "The king is here to see you."