Since Birth

Chapter Seven

"Arthur?" a deep, masculine voice emitted from outside of the chambers. "Arthur, I need to speak with you."

Giving a low, quiet mumble of arrogance, Arthur then gently pushed on Merlin's arm, backing him near the window. "You need to go."

"What?" Merlin huffed, swooping under Arthur's grip to get free, instead finding himself wincing from the sudden pressure on his ribs.

"Merlin-" Arthur's voice was soft; unlike any other's voice before. Merlin realized the elder cared for him, and that made him feel immensely happy.

"I don't understand. Why can't I just hide?"

"Arthur!" Uther barked behind the door. He was getting impatient.

"Just trust me," Arthur began, dragging Merlin by the arm to the window. "Please just leave. It's for the better." Arthur could never let Merlin know of what Uther is actually is to him. And after what had just happened? He knew the younger man would hate him after such an act his father had caused. Arthur could distinctly hear the King jiggling the doorknob just to find it locked. Thank the Gods.
The two men stared in the eye, each with different and profound emotions detected by the other.

"Arthur..."

"It's alright, Merlin." Arthur was practically blushing from the affectionate gaze Merlin had treated him with. He knew the brunet didn't know why he had to do this, but he could trust him. And that's more than Arthur could ever ask for. "We can meet tomorrow? Same as today?" With lifted spirits, Merlin gave a nod along with a grin before Arthur helped him position himself on the windowsill, handing him his neckerchief.

"Be careful."

"When am I not?" Merlin answered him sarcastically. After a chuckle was exchanged and Uther's loud call yelled once again, the younger man took a rope Arthur found with coincidental luck as he watched his companion leave. Sighing once Merlin was out of sight along with the rope, he made his way to the door, opening it wide for his father to enter when he pushed him aside with aggravation, a glare present in his features.

"Father, I-"

"Do you have a valid explanation for stalling..." his voice trailed off upon taking notice to the assortment of bandages along with some wine. The liquid was dropped in a delicate, faint line towards the window, but Uther didn't comment on it. Still, he was skeptical. What could the boy have done besides peer out to the city below? "What is all of this?"

"I got injured," Arthur attempted to reply in a nonchalant manner. He knew his father had sensed through his false serenity, and he internally cursed himself for allowing himself to look so vulnerable.

"Injured?" Uther repeated.

"Yes," Arthur started slowly. His arms found themselves picking the pieces of cloth from the bed as a distraction from his nervous stumble. "While I was in the forest hunting for the deer, I...tripped."

"Awfully clumsy of a man I taught to be graceful," the father remarked, this time taking a closer look at the drops of wine. "Were you planning to drink before your dinner with Princess Ione tonight?"

"I..." A pause followed, as Arthur tried to cover his sentence of shock with a collected expression. "It was merely used as alcohol for the wound, father. Surprisingly, there is not anything else to aid me in sight at the moment."

Uther knew there was something odd about the scenario but decided to hold his tongue. Instead, he kept on pushing at the details that gave Arthur's false comebacks. "It must've been painful," he noted, nodding towards Arthur's arm. It was small but distinguishable. Small crescents the hue of faded red along with lines ran down Arthur's arms at a symmetrical angle.

His son cleared his throat. "Yes, father. But I was expecting privacy. Not someone to barge in while I was mid-scream."

Uther raised a brow at Arthur's sharp tongue. It was peculiar to see him with such different behavior lately. "Perhaps all of the stress of the marriage has gotten to you, my son." Uther nonchalantly strode to the window, taking a moment to gaze at another drop of wine before peering out into the depths below and beyond. "Do you find her suitable?"

Uther head the cracking of saliva but not answer. His head whipped to find Arthur dumbfounded by the question, his mind in a current predicament. "Arthur?"

"She is nice, father," is all he said in reply.

"She is attractive?"

"Yes."

"She is generous and willing?"

It took him a second longer to answer this time. "Yes."

Uther readjusted himself, standing with a taut posture, nodding to his son. "Then I shall expect an heir soon, Arthur. You have a kingdom that rests on your shoulders."

"I am aware, father."

"Good." He turned again to face the outside breeze, wiping a finger over the spilled wine, giving it a taste. The metallic taste bled through his senses along with the sharp intake of alcohol. Perhaps his son was speaking the truth.

"Is there an explanation as to why you're here?" Arthur questioned. He had looked to his father, wondering what was registering through that mind of his. "I find it quite odd that you would travel just to see me marry Princess Ione."

"Indeed you are right, Arthur." He paused, "I am aware that you know of the current witch hunt taking place?" Arthur nodded with an ineffable expression. "I am in search of a man named Balinor. He is a very powerful man, and his bones in a display case will do nicely in the current collection."

Shuddering, Arthur recalled the words formerly spoken before. He remembered the sentence tumbling from his father's mouth with such grace as if he discussed of the topic as a hobby. Maybe it was. Arthur has yet to find the sacred collection of stacked bones of the fallen, but part of his mind was glad that he didn't have to let his eyes witness the sight of burn-marked sticks of white as a branding to symbolize how the innocent had passed. Some of the chosen had certainly deserved it, no doubt; but Arthur believed differently from his father. After somewhat logical thinking, Arthur eventually came to a conclusion. Magic wasn't evil. And Merlin's example back at the river where they shared a conversation only proved more so.

"Why do you need this man so desperately, father?"

Uther gave a soft chuckle. "He had escaped my fingertips quite a while ago..." Facing his son, the King continued. "Tell me, Arthur, have you ever heard of the term 'dragon lord'?" Shaking his head, the Prince gave a subtle shift of the head, trying to hide the churning of his stomach. Uther grinned. "They are people who can communicate with dragons. Wielding such a powerful curse is dangerous. I had their kind all executed, but one managed to leave my grasp..."

"Balinor," Arthur quietly filled in, shocked by his father's course of action.

"Indeed. I need him dead, Arthur. He has proved to be clever with wit but he will not win the war. I want to see his bones with the screams still lingering in my ears." Uther saw his son's contorted face in a mixture of nausea and remorse. "One day you will understand," the King attempted to comfort, clasping his hands together as he strode to the chamber's doors. "One day you will realize revenge and bloodshed will fill your senses with pleasure."

As the doors closed, Arthur was still in the room, evaluating with a glazed stare on what his father's words had just meant. Uther had lived longer and had survived with much experience under his belt, but after the moments flooded with the ticks of time, Arthur still managed to find himself in denial at his father's words.

Uther was wrong.

And Arthur knew it; because every time when he stared into those azure eyes that reminded him of curiosity and felicity, he sensed beauty.

And that was far greater than bloodshed.

A/N: Hello everyone! I hoped y'all enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know by leaving a vote or comment below, it would mean a lot! Thanks y'all! Bye!