Exustio( Latin)-burning up, conflagration

Merlin has a serious fear of fire. Arthur wants to find out why...

Prompt requested by Vuurvlieg. First reveal fic!

Ok. I had promised myself I'd never write any reveal fics, because seriously, no one will ever do justice to THE REVEAL, no matter how great their writing is. ( and I've seen some pretty good writing).

Because no one knows how Arthur will react, what will be the actual circumstances and what else will contribute on the whole scene. I'll admit it, I have no idea how to deal with Arthur while writing this. Should he be scared, forgiving, ruthless or confused? Should he be understanding and quiet or emotional and loud? The only people who know are the writers, and even they must be scratching their heads at this point.

Anyway, now comes Merlin. Would he really reveal his magic willingly? I think not. My guess is that Arthur is in a life threatening situation and the secret comes out in the heat of the moment, because really, the naive Merlin who thought about walking to Arthur and saying " Hey, best friend! Did you know I am a warlock and your secret protector?" is far gone. This new Merlin after series 3 & 4 knows what he is getting into and knows the risk and consequences of all his actions, good and bad.

This is probably getting really boring so I'll get to the point. This is a reveal fic but it is intended as a version of what may happen. When I read reveal fics I go " Oh, this is really realistic!" or "Oh, this is totally in character, it could totally happen!" but I keep my eyes open for more.

This prompt got me thinking for a while ( about three weeks? :P sorry Vuurvlieg!) since I couldn't really phantom a real reason for Merlin to be afraid of fire. And then it hit me.

Hope you all like this and let me know your thoughts and inferences! Review pretty please?

This is dedicated to all the Merlin fans out there and especially to Vuurvlieg, reminding her of Everything and how people ( me) are waiting for the next chapter! :D

Enjoy :)

Exustio

Part 1

"Let this serve as a lesson to all!"

Heads, blonde and gray, young and old, wrinkled and smooth, turned towards the balcony were their King stood tall and strong, eyes cold. Mother's gripped their children, pulling them close. Men tensed up, preparing to deny everything if it came to that. The citizens of Camelot all wore identical masks of submission, although fear and rage gripped their hearts.

Their once just and fair King had turned into a demon only 11 years ago. He had started the madness that drove families apart, broke crying children from their father's arms and killed husbands, mothers and sons without remorse. The body of their smiling Queen, lying cold and still behind the castle's catacombs, was the reason…

She had died and left a broken man; she had died and left a blue-eyed son. She had died and she had started genocide with the little baby that looked so much like her. That little prince had doomed them all.

The King never looked into his victim's eyes. It was an unspoken rule. He turned away once the deed was done, his forehead creased with new lines that weren't there a moment before. The scar given to him by an angry mother of three that tried to get to her children while they burned alive came out stark white against the stoic face.

Now, his eyes danced away from the torch that was to light up the man's skin. He didn't look.

Yet he gave the order.

"This man, Henry Callow, has been found guilty of using magic and enchantments…" he said monotonously, as if he was accustomed to it "He shall burn at the stake"

The King brought his hand downwards, cutting through the mist of that December morning. But as the man closed his eyes and prepared to die a frenzy of dark hair and green robes busted out to the balcony and a childlike, high voice cried out:

"You cannot do this!"

The King turned to a little girl, barely 12 years old, who looked up at him with shinning eyes. her lustrous black hair was up in a bun, the sharp angles of her face making her seem like an vengeful angel. He sighed, turned, and stared deeply into her pure green eyes as a half growl found his way out of his throat

"Go back to your room, Morgana."

The little girl refused, clinging to the King's robes. Her fist closed around the King's arm so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"You won't listen to me…" she said slowly and desperately, trying to keep his voice from breaking as she heard the sobs the man was uttering down there "But this all will come to hunt you down Uther Pendragon, I swear it. On my father's blood, I swear to you these poor people will seek vengeance and…"

Her face jerked to the side as a gloved hand connected with her delicate cheek. Gasping, Morgana looked upwards to the enraged face of the man she was destined to kill.

"You will not speak to me on such a way, young lady!"

Uther's voice was hard and cold, like the tip of his sword. His eyes bore none of the warmth that filled them so very little; he was burning with passion and rage. Morgana did not look away. She did not break her gaze as she mouthed her promise again, mainly to remind herself that justice would be done.

"Go back to your rooms!"

As cold and tight as she could, she marched away from the execution, locking her eyes with the figure of a young man slumped against a wall.

"This is your father, Arthur" she said coolly to the young prince "A monster who executes innocent people. Never forget that. He will pay"

Arthur never forgot.

The memory hit him like a wave when he stood, facing the crowd that gathered with ashen faces in front of the balcony. Those incredulous faces, in some acceptance, in some horror.

But to Arthur, the face that stood out the most, not only by paleness but also by the way his keen gaze looked for it, was that of his manservant. The boy, who stood on the crowd, eyes burning into his, was crying, pleading him not to do this.

But Arthur reminded himself of what that sorcerer had done. He had almost killed Guinevere. Sent by Morgana, the man had managed to slip into the castle and get to his wife, but nothing had developed into the tragedy it could've been, thank God.

Merlin had pleaded with him; he had begged and shamelessly cried in behalf of the man. He had somehow gotten into his head that the man was innocent, that he was only used by Morgana, that he had no free will. The part of Arthur that wanted to comfort his friend had shied away and the King had stood in front of his manservant, threatening him with treason and exile if he continued with his arguments.

He would never forget Merlin's face, deeply hurt and disappointed, the way his eyes had dilated in almost…fear?. For a moment, just for one, he thought of letting the man have a trial.

But it had been just one moment because the next Merlin was out of the room and all his bitterness returned with intensified force, reminding him that magic was evil and the world was better without it. Reminding him that magic had killed his father and mother, his knights...

...That's why he didn't know mercy as he spoke the next words.

"Light the pyre"

But he did notice the way Merlin swayed as he clutched a hand over his heart, eyes so deep and innocent, but yet so full of regret and shame that Arthur had to look away.

Almost imperceptibly, he touched his own heart with his fist as the man's cries filled the air.

For some reason buried deep beneath his skin, he felt his heart hurt also.