Chapter Text
“Are you just going to hide all night, or are you planning on stepping out from behind that tree at some point?”
Merlin swears and ducks his head. Honestly, he had been trying to work that out himself.
"Depends," he says after stepping into the small clearing where Arthur had set up camp. "It looked like you needed some space. To cool off."
The, and to stop being an idiot is left unsaid but not unheard. Arthur laughs bitterly and Merlin thinks he should have tried to hide better. This isn't about to go over any easier out here when it's too late than back home when there was time.
"You might make it far enough before sundown," Arthur says, frowning towards the sky, digging absently at the dirt with a stick in one hand. The two of them can't seem to agree on anything lately.
"You know very well why I won't," Merlin says as he sits on a stone perpendicular to his friend. The rucksack over his shoulder he drops on the ground before rifling through. "Besides, it's not like you've ever packed provisions. Lemme guess, you brought some dried meat, a waterskin, and your sword, and that's it right?" Each item is ticked off with a finger as Merlin scrutinizes Arthur. He receives a scowl in response.
"Go. Home. Merlin."
"Why are you so intent on sending me away when we've faced much worse together?"
"Because it was never me who could have hurt you before!" Arthur snaps and then throws his stick and stands in one motion. He stalks to the outer edge of the clearing and runs a hand over his face.
"Merlin," he warns, "if I bite you-"
"I have a charm," Merlin says quickly, fishing the pendant out from his tunic. "Trust me, I've thought of everything. You shouldn't be alone, Arthur, not tonight."
At first Merlin thinks that this has actually calmed Arthur since he ceases pacing and fixes Merlin with a confused look. When the look hardens Merlin isn't so certain.
“It’s magic, isn’t it?” Arthur asks quietly. “The amulet.”
“It was the only way I could be here with you,” the other says weakly. When and for what reason the use of magic could be forgiven shifted with Arthur, but this must have been one of those times he at least understood because all he did was sigh and rake a hand through his hair.
“How could you be so foolish,” he murmurs. The chill of night or his own discomfort makes him shudder. “You’ve already risked enough. You can’t be here.”
Leaving Arthur feels as unbearable as seeing him this distraught, so Merlin stands and makes towards him.
The prince takes a step back and raises his hands, pleading, “No one can see me like this. Please.”
“I’m not going to think any differently of you, Arthur.”
“I’m a monster , Merlin.”
“No,” the man insists vehemently. “All you’ve heard is that’s what you must be, all you’ve seen is a woman convinced we were going to kill her. Magic and curses, they don’t make us anything. You haven’t changed, Arthur.”
He bites his lip, the widening of his friend’s eyes showing that he’s revealed too much. But if this one secret, the one that’s been clamoring to be let free since that night, is what will finally make Arthur understand then Merlin can do nothing but share it.
“You're no more a monster than I am."
Arthur shakes his head minutely, trying to hold onto his confusion. "What-"
"I have magic, Arthur," Merlin says solemnly. He wills down the tears and trembling, not wanting to threaten his certainty that neither of them are what they’ve been taught. He has to show Arthur that they’ll be alright. Because disbelief still clings to Arthur's expression, Merlin cups his hands and speaks into them. When he opens, a small flutter of glow worms flit up in the air and float away in all directions.
The next moments pass in silence as Arthur stands stock still save for the shaking of his head. All the hurt and betrayal Merlin expected to see is plain on Arthur's face. What surprises him is the despair. Arthur looks heartbroken, somehow near tears, and it causes Merlin seizing pain in his chest to know he himself is the cause.
When Arthur speaks again he’s looking into the middle distance.
“Why did you come here, Merlin?”
A sense of dread prickles at the younger man's neck. He tries explaining, says, "To help you," but Arthur interrupts with, "The real reason, if you don't mind."
Hurt twists so tightly in Merlin’s chest he can’t answer. In the silence Arthur snickers.
“I bet you were so thrilled when I got bit, weren’t you? To have another freak in Camelot to hide with-”
“What-" Merlin says angrily, standing to his feet, "I jumped in front of you-”
“Knowing that I’d still pull you back-”
“Because you’re an idiot!” Merlin shouts. He reigns himself in before adding softly, “We’re not freaks. ”
“No, you’re right,” Arthur says with cold agreeability. “I’m not. I didn’t choose this.”
Merlin balks. “Neither did I!” he cries, waving his arm around, unable to express his frustration. “D’you think I just decided to pick it up after becoming your manservant? Oh, it’s only the Crown Prince of Camelot; safest place for magic is by his side, easy to keep under wraps!”
Another tremor runs through Arthur, growing in force down his arms and jolting his hands. It lasts a little longer too, and he tightens his fists around it before speaking.
“People make all sorts of reckless decisions in their pursuit of power.”
“You know me better than that.”
“Actually, Merlin, I don’t know you at all.”
The rejection strikes like a sharp blow to his breast, and Merlin has to force himself from flinching. Of all the times Arthur could be spiteful and pigheaded, instead of just listening for a moment-
He wipes at his eyes hard and speaks to correct him, gulping heavily, “I’m still the same person.”
Patches of silver light begin sliding across the clearing, creeping into place over and around them like a spectral procession. Half of Arthur’s mouth is limned by it but his eyes remain shadowed.
He sneers, “What the hell are you sniveling for?” Something is wrong with his voice. “Stop it-” he’s interrupted by a sudden distortion of his figure, loud popping of joints cracking. Again his hands seem to be the foci of change, hard as they are to see with how Arthur clutches them against his stomach. They jerk and stretch, beginning to grow. The prince bites back a sob.
“Arthur you’re rings-” Merlin says, moving to get them off Arthur’s fingers before they cut into him. Arthur shoves Merlin roughly.
“Don’t touch me-” he growls- honest to gods growls . The sound reverberates in his chest like it’s too large for his body, and his upper lip quivers instead of curling. With one jerking motion he fists the jewelry and wrenches it off, but the bands catch over his knuckles and shred his fingers, flesh schlepping off like bruised fruit skin. All of it blinks into the underbrush as Arthur tries not to look. He can’t clench his hands anymore so they splay out at his sides, pulsing and stretching. It’s all going wrong so fast, Merlin’s not sure what to try and keep together.
“I looked for any way to stop this,” he says. “Please believe me, Arthur, I couldn’t find a single thing.”
“Except to keep yourself safe.”
“Is that what it’ll take?” Merlin feels his own frustration bubbling into ire. Of course he knew Arthur would question his magic, his choices. But to question his loyalty after all he’d sacrificed, openly or in secret, was intolerable. He seizes the pendant and snaps it from his neck. “If this’ll make you see that I am your friend I’m glad to be rid of it.”
The crystal gleams brilliant violet then shatters. Arthur erupts.
“You bleeding idiot! Get it back- put it back on!” The muscles of his back begin to spasm, throwing his shoulders around. He paces to reign back any control over it, though surely it keeps slipping. "Fix it!"
“No. Not if you think I- that I planned this all out. I am your friend and won’t have you suffer alone, ever.”
“I will not-” Arthur swallows, “turn anyone. Leave or I’ll make you.”
Another shudder rips through him, so forceful that he has to fold around it with a cry of pain. The dry snaps of bone come faster, though still sounding just above a whisper. Not much else is audible in the dead expanse of forest.
“You can’t- I won’t,” Merlin insists, shaking his head. "Please, at least let me ease the pain Arthur."
"Try it and I'll run you through," Arthur spits, his grimace stretching farther than it should be physically able. He stops working to right himself, stuck hunched over, but fixes Merlin with a wild look. "Keep your filthy magic away from me."
Merlin feels his eyes wet. The fear of death by Arthur’s hand left him years ago, ever since the mortaeus flower. This though is the closest it’s come to returning, with how difficult seeing Arthur’s become instead of a man raised on Uther’s hatred.
"You planned this ah - all out, didn't you?" The prince's voice begins distorting, its climb into an echoing rasp interrupted by gasps of pain. Clouds above roll over the sky and snatch away the moonlight just as Arthur twists forward. His arms are now the length of his body, bent rigid beneath him with prominent tendons twitching. "Fa- nngh- cied a pet, did you? A prince for your obedient ah- hound?"
"Never, Arthur," Merlin swears, shaking his head, but the other's no longer listening.
"Stu-upid, trusting Arthur," he sing-songs. His voice splits between two pitches like a discordant church organ. In the darkness the details of his figure are lost, but Merlin sees how severe the bow of his back is, how his ribcage expands with every ragged exhale. The sound of fabric tearing follows shortly after. "Stupid hnng - lonely Arthur." Every crack of bone comes faster and louder. "Easy to wr- hrr -rap round your finger."
Tears fall freely from Merlin's eyes. His pulse hammers and face feels fuzzy. "All that I do is for you, Arthur."
Something too violent for a laugh rocks through Arthur. Shadow shapes continue peeling off of him as he grows in rapid bursts, groaning with each jolt. His figure is prostrate and sigmoid beneath the forest canopy which arcs over him like a chapel, the cruel moon peering in from a break in the center.
Partly from desperation, partly from anguish, Merlin tries to convince Arthur once more. He opens his mouth and takes a step forward.
"Don’t you see I l-"
"Fix it," Arthur cuts him off. "Change me hah- back then."
Each convulsion comes slower and weaker now as his turning completes.
“I tried. I couldn’t.”
Merlin feels his mind, if not his heart, break with the bones of Arthur’s face as they snap, surge forward, and fit back together in an unfamiliar visage. The light now reflects from Arthur’s eyes. He rears slowly onto crooked hind legs, standing nearly twice his natural height.
“Oh,” says the beast, voice evening into a single low rumble. “Pity.”
It lunges.