Work Text:
Prompt: Hi there, I adore your h/c and angst work! So I have a Merlin prompt for you. Some sort of curse has befallen Camelot and the situation is very dire. As per usual, Merlin and Arthur are out hunting the sorcerer, but it’s starting to look hopeless. The curse will be lifted if Arthur sacrifices an eye (eye for an eye type deal). Merlin won’t let him, so Arthur tricks him somehow and takes his eye out when Merlin isn’t looking. I know this specific but I encourage you to take any liberties you want
The worst part about the curse is that for a long, long time, Merlin wasn’t even aware that it was a curse.
It started with the whispers.
As he would walk down the hallways, he’d think he was hearing the soft murmurings of other servants, just out of sight, then the guards and their gazes that never left the opposite wall, then the swishing of clothes vanishing just around the corner. Murmurings of his name, of worries, of problems, of something wrong?
Merlin paid them no heed at first. Whispering in the castle was nothing to be alarmed by. And servant gossip was something he was certainly no stranger to. It’s saved his life and Arthur’s life more than a few times, how could he possibly hold a grudge? So he smiled and raised his chin at the few he did pass, always with smiles on their faces that held no malice or ill will.
Then came the doors.
Out of the corner of his eye, he would see a flash of movement and turn to look, only to see a door perfectly closed. Funny, he would swear he saw it open a moment ago. Not enough for someone to slip through, just enough for someone to peek out quickly or vanish into the depths of the rooms. When he paid attention to it, he thought he could hear the squeaks too, of the hinges that had lasted the years with barely any grease. Every now and then, in the quietest corners of the castle, there would be a sharp squeak and low thud of a door.
Doors open and close all the time. That’s how doors work. And half the time Merlin needed to go in those rooms in a little bit anyway, so he paid them no heed. And often the rooms looked like no one had set foot in them for hours anyway.
Then came the looks.
Merlin is not from Camelot, nor is he the ideal picture of a servant by any means. And so it was no shock to him—well, it may have been a shock at first, but now, it’s just a part of his life—that people tended to stare. At him, at his gangly form, at his tunics that did not fit in with the rest of the servants’ garb, at his blatant disregard for anything that was not Arthur’s safety. But still. These looks were…different.
Eyes would widen, not in disbelief, not really, but in…disgust? Fear? Anger? Merlin didn’t pick up on it at first, just because, well, he’s learned to ignore so much of it, but when he started seeing it he couldn’t stop seeing it. The turned-up noses, the way they would edge a little further away from him. The faintest furrowing of the eyebrows. Like there was something on his face that was repulsive but no one wanted to tell him.
It says something about how Merlin’s used to living, doesn’t it, that it’s only when the hallucinations started that he realized something was actually wrong.
He’s in Arthur’s chambers, crawling under the bed to fetch the prat’s comb—how it ended up there Merlin has no idea—when the door creaks open.
Arthur doesn’t call out, so Merlin frowns, edging all the way under the bed to figure out who’s coming in here without seeking permission first.
Heavy boots tromp around the room, going first to the desk, then to the shelves, then working their way slowly around the bed. Merlin peers out from under the cover of the blankets, looking to catch of glimpse of who it might be. His eyes widen.
Thick, black boots with silver chains.
H-how—
It must be a coincidence.
The boots get closer and Merlin’s breath catches in his throat. They stop. Right next to the bed.
“An eye for an eye,” rumbles a voice that is dead, the Witch Finder fell from the castle walls, how is he here— “and you will see.”
The door bangs open.
“Merlin!”
Arthur.
“Merlin, are you still under my bed? Did you even find the comb yet?”
“A-Arthur?”
“Yes, Merlin, did you get your little bottom stuck again?”
Merlin’s still trying to catch his breath. “Arthur are you—did you—“
Arthur’s golden face appears next to the bed, along with his familiar brown boots. He frowns. “What are you doing under there?”
Absentmindedly, Merlin reaches out for the comb a few inches away from his hand. He slides it over to Arthur who palms it.
“Well, that’s that. Come on out.” When Merlin doesn’t move, he frowns deeper. “Merlin?”
“Sorry.” Merlin scrambles to get out from under the bed, only to be caught by Arthur as he turns to go about the rest of his chores. “What?”
“You look upset,” Arthur says immediately, “tell me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s not, it’s something, now tell me.”
“Arthur—“
“Merlin.” Arthur’s grip on his arm gentles and he glances at the closed door. “Merlin, it’s me. You can tell me. I did just find you hiding under my bed looking like you’d seen a ghost.”
Seen a ghost, huh?
Merlin swallows heavily. “I, er…”
“You…didn’t,” Arthur asks slowly, “did you?”
Merlin shakes himself. “Sorry. I must be tired or something.”
“Mm.” Arthur lets him go but he doesn’t move away. “Well, you’re not alone. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately either.”
“You haven’t?”
Arthur shakes his head. “It’s strange…it feels like I’ve been…is something coming up that I’ve forgotten about?”
Merlin racks his brain, which is even worse at keeping track of things that it should be. “Don’t think so, why?”
“It’s just that everyone’s been whispering lately,” Arthur mutters as he strides to his desk, “and I’ve been hearing doors closing out of nowhere, doors that no one’s opened for years, and everyone’s been looking at me weird.”
“You’re the King of Camelot,” Merlin says, “isn’t that to be expected?”
“It’s not that kind of weird. It’s like…”
Something in Merlin’s blood runs cold. “…like you’ve got something on your face and no one wants to be the one to tell you?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Merlin swallows. “And these doors. Do you think you see them moving but when you actually look they’re shut?”
Arthur gives him a strange look. “Have you been having the same thing?”
“…yeah.”
“…did we…do something?”
Merlin glances at the door. “I’m not sure it’s just us.”
Sure enough, Gaius comes to him that night while he’s cleaning up from their supper with a grim look on his face.
“Have you noticed anything strange recently, Merlin?”
“Strange for Camelot or strange for me?”
“Both, I suppose.”
Merlin sighs. “Well, the only thing that was…actually strange was I saw—“
He cuts himself off. Gaius…Gaius would understand why this was so troubling, wouldn’t he?
“Go on, Merlin.”
“…I thought I heard the Witch Finder.”
Gaius inhales sharply. “Aredian?”
“I was in Arthur’s chambers, under the bed, and I—“ Merlin swallows— “I heard his boots. Then I saw them.”
“You saw him?”
“His boots. With the silver chains? He was walking all around the bed, like—“
“…like what?”
“Like when I was hiding under his bed in his chambers.” Merlin’s hands tighten on the table behind him. “And I heard him says something.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about an eye for an eye and everyone finally being able to see.”
Gaius nods gravely. “Well. That’s quite ominous.”
“You’re telling me.”
“I’ve heard reports of increased anxieties around the castle and the city,” Gaius says, “and now that you’ve said you’ve actually seen something, I fear this might be more sinister than I anticipated.”
The cold in Merlin’s veins returns. “What’re you talking about?”
“There is rumor of an ancient curse,” come the words that, really, at this point, Merlin should expect coming from Gaius, “that exacts a very specific type of vengeance against someone.”
“What kind of curse?”
“Supposedly it makes them see things how you see things.”
“So in this case—“
“Increased paranoia, apparently,” Gaius sighs, “as well as figures from the past.”
“Who could’ve done something like this, who would want to get back at Camelot by making everyone—“
Merlin stops.
Oh, shit.
“…making everyone terrified that everyone else knows something about you that you really don’t want them to know,” Merlin finishes, his eyes wide, “and that they’re plotting about it behind your back.”
“Not unlike what it feels like to have magic in Camelot.” Gaius hums. “Mm. Well. That certainly narrows it down.”
“How do we stop it?”
“I’ll have to look.”
“Start looking,” Merlin says, already rushing out of their chambers, “I’ll try and see how bad it’s gotten.”
As it turns out, pretty bad. The knights are having trouble training properly because no one is able to make sure the times have all be set. The kitchen is utter chaos, unable to tell the real whispers from the fake ones. Servants no longer smile in the corridors, skirting around each other. The kingdom slowly starts to grind to a halt as the market stalls begin closing, people stop going out of their houses, and the guards are met with suspicious glances on their patrols.
Then, of course, there are the sightings.
Most of them are vague enough that they can be dismissed. Lights that turned on out of nowhere. Smoke that makes strange shapes in the dark. Chains rattling.
But then there are also talks of shadowy figures moving through dark alleyways. Ominous cloaks roaming the squares at night. Glowing eyes in the night.
Arthur hears them out dutifully, promises to search the kingdom for sorcerers, but reminds the people to ensure they’re eating well, that they have enough to get by, that they’re taking care of themselves during this difficult time. Merlin watches from the side of the room, silently glowing with pride at how well Arthur’s supporting his people.
In private, though…
“Arthur,” Merlin says softly, “you’ve been staring at the door for ten minutes. It hasn’t opened and there’s no one on the other side.”
“How do you know that,” Arthur growls, his gaze fixed on the handles, “how do you know for sure?”
“Because I just came through them and no one was there.”
“Not even the guards?”
“The guards are stationed further down the corridor, as you requested.”
“Have I forgotten something?”
“No, Arthur.”
“I bloody well hate this,” Arthur grumbles, throwing the quill to the desk and standing up so fast the chair’s legs squeak across the floor, “I should feel safe in my quarters, in my home, in Camelot, people should feel safe, has Gaius figured out that bloody curse yet?”
“Not yet.”
“How can someone live like this?” Arthur’s fingers grab at his hair. “Which whispers, with looks, with—with—“
Arthur cries out in frustration. “It’s like—like someone’s always staring over my shoulder, and they won’t go away, they never go away—“
Merlin’s hands land on Arthur’s shoulders, pressing until he slumps onto his bed. Arthur sighs heavily, leaning into Merlin.
“How do you do it, Merlin,” he mumbles, “how are you fine?”
“I’ve got you to worry about, don’t I?” Merlin squeezes Arthur’s shoulders. “Kind of hard to worry about myself when I’ve got you to look after.”
“That sounds awful.”
Merlin shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
There’s a pause.
Arthur’s head raises slowly. “…Merlin, say that again.”
“I’m used to it?”
“That’s what I thought you said,” Arthur says quietly, his gaze hardening.
“Arthur, what—“
“How could you be used to this, Merlin?” Arthur stands up, shaking Merlin’s hands off his shoulders. “How could you be used to this?”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Merlin’s mouth runs dry. “Arthur, I—“
“You didn’t even notice it at first, did you?” Arthur takes a step forward. “You weren’t even a little disturbed until I found you that day under my bed. How long did it truly take you to notice?”
“I noticed it that day, that’s the day I spoke to Gaius—“
“But only after you’d seen something,” Arthur interrupts, his face darkening as he forces Merlin to take another step back, “after I told you something was wrong.”
“Arthur—“
“You said you were used to this.” Arthur’s just about snarling now. “Which means you were already living like this.”
“Arthur please—“
“How could you not tell me?”
“I’m sorry, I was going to, I promise, I just didn’t want—“
“I could’ve helped!”
Merlin stops. “You what?”
“I could’ve helped, Merlin!” Arthur’s hands come up to grip Merlin’s arms. “This is awful, Merlin, you should’ve told me, I’d’ve—we’d’ve figured out something!”
Eyes widening, Merlin looks at Arthur. Arthur’s still staring hard at Merlin, but his eyes aren’t angry, not really, at least not at Merlin. No, instead he looks almost like he’s trying to apologize.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin manages, “that I didn’t tell you earlier.”
“No.” Arthur squeezes his arms. “I’m sorry. If…if this is what it’s been like for you, then—then it’s no wonder you didn’t want to tell me.”
“…it’s not much fun, is it?”
“No, it really isn’t.”
“I don’t think Gaius has found the solution yet.”
“Do you know if he’s close?” Merlin shakes his head. “Damn.”
Merlin slowly lowers his arms from their defensive position. “…er…oh!”
Arthur’s arms tighten around his middle as he pulls him into a furious hug. “We’ll fix this, Merlin,” he mutters into Merlin’s shoulder, “I promise.”
The whispers vanish into Arthur’s chest as he hugs back.
A guard bangs on the door a moment later.
“Sire!”
“Yes?”
“Gaius, sire.”
“Send him in.”
Gaius appears a few moments later, his brow furrowed and a heavy book in his hands. He lays it out on the table, the page open to something with an ominous-looking eye-symbol on the top.
“This is the curse, sire,” Gaius says gravely as Arthur leans over the book, “a paranoia spell that is designed to induce a state of madness.”
“And you’re certain it’s been cast over all of Camelot?”
“At the very least, the city. I’ve had patients from all over the city reporting to me about the same thing.”
“How far along are we?”
“The last stage of the curse is the visions.” Gaius points to a section of the page. “‘Victims will suffer tormented visions of those they have wronged, that will serve to convince them of their own madness.’”
Merlin shudders. The Witch Finder’s black cloak still swirls in the corners of dark hallways.
“How do we stop it?”
“There are two ways, it seems. Either you kill the sorcerer responsible, or…”
“Or?” Arthur prompts when Gaius trails off.
“…have you experienced any visions yet, sire?”
“No, why?”
“Because all of those that have reported seeing full corporeal visions have told me the same thing.”
“An eye for an eye,” Merlin says softly, the Witch Finder’s voice still grating in his ears, “and you will see.”
Gaius nods.
“Wait, so one of us has to die?”
“No,” Merlin says, “it sounds like we just have to lose an eye?”
“There is a counterspell that can be performed,” Gaius says, “using the eye of a person that has…well.”
Arthur nods sharply. “Well…that’s not our first option. Is there anything in that book about how to find the sorcerer responsible?”
“The spell must be cast inside the bounds of whatever person you wish to effect. I do not know if that means they are in the city or in all of Camelot.”
“Has all of Camelot been affected?”
“I don’t know that either, sire.”
“Send out patrols,” Arthur barks to guards outside, “assemble the knights. We must find out at once.”
‘At once’ turns into a week. Then two. Then a month.
The whispers are getting worse. Doors are bolted shut and still, they can see them opening and closing. The visions start to spread. Arthur starts insisting Merlin stay close.
A month stretches to two months.
There’s still no sign of the sorcerer.
The market is shut down. No one goes outside except to tend to their own little plots of land. Everyone eyes everyone with cold gazes.
Then Arthur walks into Gaius's chambers in his sleep shirt, dark bags under his eyes.
“This counterspell,” he grits out, “how does it work?”
Gaius stands. He leans on the table and consults the book. “It would require the eye of the…”
“Person in question.”
“…yes sire, then a few herbs, a magical circle, and the full moon.”
“When is the next full moon?”
“In two day’s time.”
“Can you do it?”
Gaius raises an eyebrow. “You would consent to the use of magic?”
“I’m already consenting to the removal of my eye,” Arthur replies grimly, “that’s not much more to ask. And refusing magic is what got my people into this mess anyway, isn’t it?”
“…I suppose that is true.”
“How fresh does it need to be?”
“…it should be removed the night before, I believe.”
Arthur nods sharply. “Well. One day more, then.”
“One day more until what?”
Arthur looks over his shoulder to see Merlin bursting back into the chambers. “What’s happening?”
“The counterspell.” Arthur looks back at Gaius. “Two days until the full moon, right?”
“That’s correct, sire.”
“What, you’re not—“ Merlin grabs Arthur by the shoulder. “You’re not giving up your eye are you?”
“What other choice do I have? This curse is tearing the kingdom apart.”
“Arthur, it’s your eye, you can’t—“
“Exactly. It’s my eye, so I’ll make the choice.”
“You won’t—you won’t be able to fight anymore, your knights—“
“I can learn, Merlin.”
“Arthur—“
“It’s my fault!” Arthur explodes, making Merlin wince with the force of his shout. “It’s my fault this curse got cast upon Camelot! It’s my fault I didn’t chase things the instant I was able to! It’s my fault you’ve been living like this for years!”
“Then it’s also mine for being a bystander!” Merlin refuses to budge. “I’ve done no better than you! I’ve been standing by and letting this happen to my own people. Hell, I’ve helped!”
“You’re one of them, Merlin! It won’t work!”
“How do you know?”
“Because you haven’t done what I’ve done!”
“How do you know?”
Arthur pauses. Merlin stands there, breathing harshly.
“How do you know,” Merlin says lowly, “that I haven’t been worse than you? I did everything knowing the injustice that I was serving, knowing that what I was doing was wrong, I—“
He takes a deep breath.
“I killed people, Arthur. People that didn’t deserve it. People just like me and I knew that if I didn’t I—“
Merlin swallows heavily, his throat running dry.
“…I betrayed my own kind long ago,” he says lowly, “so no, Arthur, you are not more responsible than I.”
Arthur is quiet, looking at Merlin, panting in front of him. Then he slowly raises his hands and lays them on Merlin’s shoulders.
“I would not do that to you,” he says softly, “not in your own quarters.”
Merlin breathes a sigh of relief. “So you won’t do it then?”
Arthur shakes his head. “I won’t do it here. Wouldn’t have you walk out of your room first thing in the morning to see that.”
Despite everything, it makes Merlin chuckle. “Might lose my appetite.”
“Oh, I doubt very much anything would make you lose your entire appetite.”
“Oi!”
Merlin can’t stay upset, not as the relief washes over him. Arthur gives a nod to Gaius and they leave, back to Arthur’s chambers, back to the safety of somewhere else.
“Put my armor on, please,” Arthur says after a little, “I want to train with the knights.”
The armor slides on with a click. Arthur takes his sword and walks to the training field, where the knights are waiting. Leon offers to spar with him first, as Percival and Lancelot take up staffs on the other side and Gwaine slaps Merlin on the shoulder.
“Help Elyan and I set up the targets, yeah?”
Elyan tosses the strap to Merlin as they start working. Merlin can’t help glancing over at Arthur every now and then, watching the fluid grace with which he moves, the way the sun gleams off the ends of their swords.
He looks like himself again.
“We’ll find them,” Elyan murmurs as they go back to the table, “we’ll find a way to end this.”
“I know.”
The night falls as they go back inside.
“Did you want me to stay again,” Merlin asks as he takes the armor off, only for Arthur to move before it’s fully undone and smash it against the wall, denting it horribly.
“..oops.”
“Ugh,” Merlin grumbles as he looks at the piece. It’s bent so far out of shape it’s hard to tell what it was. “Nevermind. I have to fix this.”
“And you certainly can’t do that here,” Arthur agrees. “I do need to sleep.”
“I’ll have it back to you in the morning, alright?”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright sleeping by yourself?”
“I’ve got Gaius.”
“Alright.” Arthur lays a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Merlin, for all that you’ve done.”
“It’s my job!”
“It is,” comes Arthur’s voice, softer this time, “and you do it very well. But let me do something for once, yeah?”
“If this means you’ll get your own breakfast tomorrow, then yes, absolutely.”
Arthur chuckles, warming Merlin’s chest. He waves Merlin out with a smile. Merlin walks back to his chambers and falls asleep with the armor still in his lap.
Not even the light of the full moon is enough to wake him up.
Clang.
Clang.
“Oi, watch it!”
“Sorry!”
Bustling noises outside reach Merlin’s ears, causing him to grumble and twitch awake. As he sits up, he hears the noises of the marketplace that he hasn’t heard in over a month. People. Outside. Talking.
He frowns.
He can’t hear any whispers. No doors creak. And as he looks around, he can’t see the swish of the Witch Finder’s cape.
“Gaius?”
No response.
Merlin rushes to the door and looks out.
No breakfast set. No Gaius. And the spellbook on the table is gone.
No.
Merlin’s heart is in his throat as he rushes through the castle, coming upon Gaius on one of the staircases. The question dies in his throat as he takes in Gaius’s expression.
“You know how hard it is to convince Arthur,” is the only thing he hears as he dashes past.
He pushes through the doors.
Arthur sits with his back to him, looking out into the square as it starts to fill with people. On the floor next to him is a bowl in a smoking magic circle.
“They’re coming out again,” he says softly, “they’re free. It’s over.”
“Arthur,” Merlin says in a strangled whisper, “Arthur, you said…”
“I said I wouldn’t do it in your chambers,” Arthur replies, still not turning around, “and I didn’t.”
“Arthur—“
Merlin rushes to Arthur’s side, freezing at the sight of the bandage covering Arthur’s left eye. Arthur stares up at him, not an inch of tension on his features. As of matter of fact, he almost looks…peaceful.
“Oh, Arthur…”
“It’s not so bad, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, smiling, “it doesn’t hurt.”
“But—you—Arthur—“
“You know something about you, Merlin?”
“What?”
The smile grows. “You’re a responsibility hoarder.”
“I’m what?”
“You are,” Arthur says, still smiling as he stands to take Merlin’s hands. “You think the whole kingdom, me included, rests on your shoulders alone. And that’s not fair to the rest of us.”
“And that justifies this?”
“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “because it’s my kingdom too. And it’s as much my duty to protect it as yours.”
“But I’m supposed to protect you,” Merlin whispers, his hands flying to cradle Arthur’s face. Arthur’s hands cover them gently.
“You did, Merlin.”
“How?”
“You told me,” Arthur says, “you told me what was happening. If you hadn’t we might not have figured this out until it was too late.”
“But you—“
“Hush,” Arthur says, terribly fond, “it’s not so bad. I don’t regret it.”
“You’ve had this for…like…a few hours?”
“At this point? Half a day.”
“How can you know you don’t regret it?”
“Because I only need one eye, Merlin.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because,” Arthur whispers, still holding Merlin’s hands, “everything else I have you for.”
Merlin’s breath stutters to a glorious pause.
“…Arthur?”
“I do, don’t I?” Arthur’s smile widens. “I can learn how to fight again. I can still rule with one eye. And everything I don’t catch, you will. Isn’t that right?”
Merlin nods furiously. “Yes, Arthur, I won’t—I’ll stay by your side.”
“Then that’s all I need.” Arthur pulls him into another warm hug. “I don’t need an eye when I’ve got my Merlin.”
An eye for an eye, Merlin thinks as the kingdom begins to wake from its paranoid slumber, and you will see.