A Different Destiny / Merthur

Handmade Heaven

Arthur was pacing his chambers almost as quickly as his heart was hammering in his chest.  He still couldn't believe what had just happened.  He'd stumbled out of the cavern as if in a dream: numbed and blinded by the darkness.  And he'd been alone. Making his way back along the corridors without Merlin had felt wrong.  It had felt like treachery.  But now he hardly knew what to think. 

Arthur Pendragon, born of magic.

The words kept swirling round and round his head, taunting him. It couldn't be true. Of course it wasn't. His Father would have never made a deal with a warlock. It was unthinkable. And yet, there were many things about his Father that Arthur didn't know. And many things he disagreed with. The ban on magic, for one. The way warlocks were hunted, as if for sport, and then tortured and put to death in the most agonising of ways.

Arthur made a sharp turn as he reached the far wall, and began pacing in the other direction.

A life for a life.

His birth had led to his Mother's death, that much Arthur knew was true.  He'd always blamed himself.  Her blood was on his hands.  If he hadn't existed, she'd still be alive.

A life for a life.

But then, just for a moment, Arthur allowed himself to look at it from a different perspective.  From a new angle. 

A life for a life.

Every life his Father has taken, every sorcerer he'd killed, had always seemed personal.  Even if the sorcerer was a stranger.  Even if they'd been peaceful (which they often were) all of them, when caught, had suffered.  They'd died in excruciating pain.  Like they were paying for something.  Like it was revenge.

Arthur snapped round as Merlin burst through the door.

"I thought you'd be here, I—"

"Did you know?" 

"What?"

"Did you know?"  Arthur hissed.

"No.  I knew nothing of your birth."

"Do you swear it?"

"Yes.  Arthur, I promise you, I didn't know."

"He lied to me," Arthur said, his voice suddenly dropping, "all these years.  He always made me feel like it was my fault.  He always looked at me like I wasn't good enough; like he was searching for her, and was disappointed to find me instead."

Merlin took a step towards him. "I'm sure that's not true," he whispered, "Arthur, your Father loves you."

"No," the Prince shook his head, his voice rising again, "no, he's a liar and a hypocrite! How can he condemn others for something he's done himself? He says magic is evil and must be eradicated at all costs, and yet he keeps a dragon locked beneath the castle, and his son, his own son, is a product of the very thing he hates most! If he's so committed to destroying all traces of magic, why am I still alive?" His voice broke as he forced out the last half of the sentence. 

"Arthur..."

"Don't," he warned, "just move.  I need to speak with my Father."