Work Text:
Arthur Pendragon stood tall, his hand raised to the sky. A flutter of hesitation sprung up in his heart before he squashed it down. He was King. This was his duty.
His hand fell.
And so did the axe.
As the axe hit its target an inhuman scream of pure anguish shook the courtyard.
Then the dungeon exploded.
The man walking out from the debris was radiating power, his eyes cold and narrow despite tears running freely down his cheeks.
Gone were the bright grins.
Gone were the twinkle in his eyes.
This man wasn’t his friend, the man he’d known for years.
Cold eyes met his, and he couldn’t help a shudder of fear.
This was what his father had warned him about. Magic was evil. It corrupted even the purest of souls.
And it had corrupted Merlin.
“You really won’t change will you?” The man who used to be his friend asked, his voice tired and hoarse from weeks in the dungeon.
Arthur steeled himself and raised his sword towards the other.
“It’s you who’s changed, giving in to the temptings and corruption of magic.” He accused.
The young man before him suddenly looked old, long beyond his years, as he closed his eyes with a sigh.
“So be it.”
Arthur readied his sword and motioned for his knights to surround the sorcerer. They’d take him down for good this time. No more hesitation.
Suddenly gold eyes flew open and everyone but Arthur was blown from their feet.
Arthur blinked and suddenly the sorcerer was right up in his face. When had he moved?
Arthur moved to strike, but realized he’d been frozen in place. The sorcerer leaned in, gold burning in his eyes as he whispered into Arthur’s ear:
“Let me show you evil.”
~•~•~•~
Years later, stories of Camelot were widely spread. Stories of ghost haunting the streets and anguished screams vibrating through the corridors of the castle.
Merlin stood on the hill looking out over his old home. He sighed and turned his head away. Guilt still ate away at his heart for the curse he’d put on Arthur. Then images of his beheaded mother and surrogate father once again filled his memories and he shook the guilt away. Even if he’d acted through grief and fury, Arthur has brought this upon himself.
The golden age had come, Nemeth rising to lead the other nations in accepting magic and non-magic as equals.
Arthur might see it one day, after he’d relived the life of every innocent magical being that’d died at his or his fathers hands. Maybe that would teach him what ‘evil’ truly meant.