I'm Arthur Pendragon. I'll be the district 7 commentator for the Fandom Games. Great.
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Arthur smiled at the group of people. It wasn’t easy, but, he had to learn, kings had to be brave.
“Hello.” He paused, looking at each of the scared faces before him.
“I know you’re scared at the moment, but it will be okay.” He glanced at Merlin. Then looked back to them. “I promise.”
The people smiled back, except for an old woman standing in between two children. Arthur suddenly felt vulnerable under her gaze. But he shrugged it off and turned to Merlin, nodding to show him that they would move on from this group.
Merlin saw the way the woman was looking at Arthur and, for a moment, worried about how he would react. But Arthur just turned to him, gesturing that they should go.
Merlin reached down and ruffled a boy’s hair before leaning down and whispering: “That’s prince Arthur, you know.” The boy’s eyes widened. Merlin smiled. “But don’t worry, he knows what he’s talking about. You’ll all be fine.” He ruffled the boy’s hair once more before jogging over to Arthur.
Arthur felt as if he wasn’t making much of a difference. These people could not be comforted at at time like this. Maybe the children, but the parents… It would never work.
He stopped and looked towards Merlin, waiting for him to catch up. Sometimes Merlin really was useless. But, right now, Arthur needed his help.
“Right.” Arthur muttered as Merlin stopped beside him. He didn’t really have much else to say. It was getting dark, and people were slowly making their ways back to their homes. Some looking scared, others, angry, and, others still, looked miserable.
“I…” Arthur hesitated. How was going to go about this? He imagined what it must feel like to be so young, yet so scared.
“I promise you.” He said, crouching down so he would be eye level with them. “I promise you that it will be okay.” His voice wavered slightly on the last word, but the children didn’t seem to notice. They nodded slowly, and went back to hugging each other.
Arthur could tell they weren’t entirely convinced. But then, neither was he. He glanced at Merlin, a raising his eyebrows slightly, as if to say ‘Are you happy now?’. Maybe joking around would lighten the mood a little.
Merlin out his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“That was great,” he said, and he meant it. Even in light of the current situation, the people respected him. If only Arthur could believe in himself the people would as well. He tried to explain this to Arthur.
“You’ve just got to believe in yourself, Arthur. It will be okay. I promise.” Merlin squeezed Arthur’s shoulder and smiled.
Across the courtyard he could see another group and he lead Arthur over. Merlin prompted Arthur to speak first.
Arthur smiled at the group of people. It wasn’t easy, but, he had to learn, kings had to be brave.
“Hello.” He paused, looking at each of the scared faces before him.
“I know you’re scared at the moment, but it will be okay.” He glanced at Merlin. Then looked back to them. “I promise.”
The people smiled back, except for an old woman standing in between two children. Arthur suddenly felt vulnerable under her gaze. But he shrugged it off and turned to Merlin, nodding to show him that they would move on from this group.
Arthur smiled weakly at the boy’s mother. He wanted to help, but he knew he would just make things worse.
This was one of those rare occasions where he felt completely lost. Usually he had some idea of what to do next. But now… now he felt like there was nothing helping him lead the way.
He turned around, unable to look at the woman and her child any longer. He scanned the crowd and picked out a young boy and girl, about 13 years old, sitting on the ground and hugging each other, crying.
He frowned as he imagined them as tributes. For all he knew, they could very well be. He began to walk towards them, but thought better of it.
Arthur then turned back to Merlin. Hoping he would be able to help somehow.
Merlin watched Arthur as he began walking, then stopped, then turned to face Merlin. He looked helpless. Merlin walked over and put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“Just talk to them,” he said quietly, pushing Arthur slightly towards the children as he moved towards them himself. He knelt on the ground, touching the boy lightly on the shoulder.
“Hey,” he said gently, “It’s okay!” He boy’s lower lip quivered. “Arthur, tell them what you told me…” he widened his eyes at Arthur, jerking his head in the direction of the children. Make them happy, he mouthed, and waited for Arthur to say something to the children looking expectantly up at him.
“I…” Arthur hesitated. How was going to go about this? He imagined what it must feel like to be so young, yet so scared.
“I promise you.” He said, crouching down so he would be eye level with them. “I promise you that it will be okay.” His voice wavered slightly on the last word, but the children didn’t seem to notice. They nodded slowly, and went back to hugging each other.
Arthur could tell they weren’t entirely convinced. But then, neither was he. He glanced at Merlin, a raising his eyebrows slightly, as if to say ‘Are you happy now?’. Maybe joking around would lighten the mood a little.
Arthur swallowed. Feeling awkward.
“Yes. We should.” He said, walking quickly towards the door. He didn’t look back to see if Merlin was following, but he heard the soft sound of his footsteps behind him.
When he finally arrived outside, he was greeted by quite a shock. It was quieter than he suspected, much quieter. It made everything just a bit more depressing. As he walked passed the small groups of people, they stared at him with pleading looks in their eyes. Well, some of them did, others glared at him angrily, as if it was his fault.
He felt a wave of guilt pass through him. No. This wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have, he still can’t, do anything about this.
He realised that the quiet footsteps behind him had stopped. He turned around slowly, and saw Merlin trying to comfort a mother clutching her young boy as if he was her lifeline. Or she was his.
He was never any good at comforting people, but he walked over to where Merlin was anyway. He could at least try. Maybe then the people of Camelot wouldn’t resent him as much.
Merlin looked up as Arthur approached. He was awkward and it would have been funny to watch him trying to help if it hadn’t been for the situation.
Merlin, like Arthur, could see the resentment in the eyes of the people as they looked at Arthur, and wished he could make them see that this wasn’t Arthur. It was the capitol.
Merlin brushed the hair off a child’s forehead, kneeling in front of him. He caught Arthur’s eye as he said:
“It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” The boy’s mother fell to her knees beside them, and Merlin put an arm round her shoulder as he told her that Everything will be okay in the end. He won’t be chosen, look, he’s not twelve yet. The woman calmed down and thanked him as he wrapped his arms around her thin frame. The boy looked up at him with round, blue eyes.
Arthur smiled weakly at the boy’s mother. He wanted to help, but he knew he would just make things worse.
This was one of those rare occasions where he felt completely lost. Usually he had some idea of what to do next. But now… now he felt like there was nothing helping him lead the way.
He turned around, unable to look at the woman and her child any longer. He scanned the crowd and picked out a young boy and girl, about 13 years old, sitting on the ground and hugging each other, crying.
He frowned as he imagined them as tributes. For all he knew, they could very well be. He began to walk towards them, but thought better of it.
Arthur then turned back to Merlin. Hoping he would be able to help somehow.
Arthur stood still, his thoughts taking longer to form and make sense than usual. A side effect of shock. When he finally realised what was happening, he felt his body tense up. Feeling Merlin’s grip on him begin to ease away, he pulled him back into a tight embrace.
He felt like crying, but, no, that wasn’t something Arthur did. So he blinked away the tears. They stood like that for a long time, and Arthur eventually relaxed.
When he finally pulled away, he realised he was crying. He quickly wiped the warm water from his cheeks.
There was a silence. Arthur thought back to what Merlin had said. It’ll be okay. Except, he knew it wouldn’t. He also knew Merlin knew it as well. It will never be okay again.
Arthur was crying.
Arthur was crying.
Arthur was crying and Merlin didn’t know what to do. He reached out to… to comfort him… somehow, but… he didn’t know how. His arm fell back to his side, useless.
“Oh Arthur,” he said quietly. Arthur had been was meant to be his rock. They would make it through together; Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, even sweet Freya. They could make it.
Except… now Arthur was crying and Merlin didn’t know what to do.
There were tears falling down his own cheeks now and he angrily wiped them away. They couldn’t both cry.
“We should go out and help the people,” he suggested after a moment, turning his head towards the window that faced towards the courtyard, where people were still standing in groups, crying and comforting each other as best as they could.
Arthur swallowed. Feeling awkward.
“Yes. We should.” He said, walking quickly towards the door. He didn’t look back to see if Merlin was following, but he heard the soft sound of his footsteps behind him.
When he finally arrived outside, he was greeted by quite a shock. It was quieter than he suspected, much quieter. It made everything just a bit more depressing. As he walked passed the small groups of people, they stared at him with pleading looks in their eyes. Well, some of them did, others glared at him angrily, as if it was his fault.
He felt a wave of guilt pass through him. No. This wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have, he still can’t, do anything about this.
He realised that the quiet footsteps behind him had stopped. He turned around slowly, and saw Merlin trying to comfort a mother clutching her young boy as if he was her lifeline. Or she was his.
He was never any good at comforting people, but he walked over to where Merlin was anyway. He could at least try. Maybe then the people of Camelot wouldn’t resent him as much.
Arthur blinked, and slowly, hesitantly, looked up at Merlin. He sighed.
“Tomorrow.” He said simply. As if it didn’t change anything. It didn’t really, because no matter how much time they had left with their loved ones, the dread and fear of the Reaping would hang over them like a dark cloud ready to rain.
He swallowed. “As long as it takes.” He said, answering the second question. He didn’t have to say specifically how long it would take to do what, but he knew Merlin would understand.
“And…” He looked down at his hands.
“Yes. Every… Every year. For who knows how long.” He raised his gaze from his hands and looked at Merlin once again, as if he was hoping Merlin would contradict him, and tell him that this was all a joke. A cruel joke.
But, he knew it wasn’t. He knew this was real. He knew he could not escape it.
“Tomorrow…” Merlin whispered, voice hoarse. He glanced up at Arthur. He looked broken.
Sod it, Merlin thought, closing the gap between them. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him close.
“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” He said, trying his hardest to reassure himself as well as Arthur. “It’ll be okay.”
Before, contact with Arthur had been limited to friendly shoves and punches to the arm. This hug broke all their boundaries, but the Fandom Games were changing everything, and Merlin knew he would have regretted not trying to comfort Arthur if one of them was chosen the next day.
“It’ll be okay,” he repeated, quieter, pulling Arthur even closer.
Arthur took a long time to react.
Arthur stood still, his thoughts taking longer to form and make sense than usual. A side effect of shock. When he finally realised what was happening, he felt his body tense up. Feeling Merlin’s grip on him begin to ease away, he pulled him back into a tight embrace.
He felt like crying, but, no, that wasn’t something Arthur did. So he blinked away the tears. They stood like that for a long time, and Arthur eventually relaxed.
When he finally pulled away, he realised he was crying. He quickly wiped the warm water from his cheeks.
There was a silence. Arthur thought back to what Merlin had said. It’ll be okay. Except, he knew it wouldn’t. He also knew Merlin knew it as well. It will never be okay again.
Arthur couldn’t bring himself to go back to the way things were normally. He wanted nothing more than to laugh and insult Merlin back. But he couldn’t. Not at a time like this.
He stood up, and began pacing around the room. “Merlin. We can’t… I can’t…” He trailed off, remembering once again that this wasn’t a problem like the ones they usually had. The ones that they always beat in the end. This was something new, something they could not fight. Something much worse than anything they had ever encountered.
Then he noticed Merlin, who had been quiet for a while. There were tears in the other man’s face again.
Arthur sighed, falling back into his chair. Everything seemed so different from yesterday. He wished he could go back. And, by the looking at Merlin, he knew they both wanted the same thing.
There were a few minutes of silence, as they listened to the logs crackling in the fire. Eventually Merlin stood up.
“When’s the reaping?” He knew that there was no point trying to change the subject any more. “And how long do the games last? Are they going to hold them every year?” Merlin clamped a hand over his mouth. The questions had begun pouring out unbidden. He didn’t mean to upset Arthur but he wanted - no, needed - to know when life could return to normality, and out of everyone, Arthur would know the answers. But it seemed that Arthur wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
Merlin turned to him, still standing, and noticed just how tired he looked. The blue of his eyes was lighter than normal… transparent, almost. He had dark circles around them and he looked… drained.
It had only been one day.
Merlin wanted nothing more than to pull Arthur into a hug. To reassure him that everything would be fine, don’t worry. But Arthur knew better than that, and would probably shove him off if Merlin tried to touch him now.
“…Arthur?”
Arthur blinked, and slowly, hesitantly, looked up at Merlin. He sighed.
“Tomorrow.” He said simply. As if it didn’t change anything. It didn’t really, because no matter how much time they had left with their loved ones, the dread and fear of the Reaping would hang over them like a dark cloud ready to rain.
He swallowed. “As long as it takes.” He said, answering the second question. He didn’t have to say specifically how long it would take to do what, but he knew Merlin would understand.
“And…” He looked down at his hands.
“Yes. Every… Every year. For who knows how long.” He raised his gaze from his hands and looked at Merlin once again, as if he was hoping Merlin would contradict him, and tell him that this was all a joke. A cruel joke.
But, he knew it wasn’t. He knew this was real. He knew he could not escape it.
It took Arthur a moment to register what Merlin had said. Right. Merlin wasn’t important. He was just a servant. A horrible one at that. But that just made it worse, somehow.
But would it be better if someone else, someone he didn’t know, was tribute? Maybe. Except, the best choice for tribute would be himself. No one else would have to get hurt. Well, that wasn’t really the truth, but it was better than watching Merlin fight, or try to, and die.
“If you’re tribute, I’m going to blame you when I have to get a new servant.” He smiled weakly, observing Merlin’s look of distress that appeared on his face.
He looked back into the fire, shaking his head.
Neither of them were going to be tribute. The odds were in their favour.
Merlin huffed out a laugh as he willed himself to just forget about The Games and slip back into normality.
This banter with Arthur was normal.
“Prat,” he said, thinking that maybe it would lead on to a playful exchange of insults, to a gentle shove, then something thrown at him. They’d laugh about it afterwards, then Arthur would order his dinner and some wine and maybe he’d let Merlin have a bit. Merlin would get the giggles and Arthur would tease him about the tavern and being unable to hold his liquor and maybe Merlin would fall asleep in the armchair again, like he had last Yuletide.
Merlin would enjoy that, and, secretly, Arthur would too. They were friends, although Arthur would never admit it, and after the Reaping there wouldn’t really be a chance for fun.
Merlin sighed and wished that The Games would just leave him alone.
He looked over at Arthur, whose face had fallen again, and knew that he was thinking the same thing.
He sighed again, trying to stop the tears welling up in his eyes. How had life changed so much in one day?
Arthur couldn’t bring himself to go back to the way things were normally. He wanted nothing more than to laugh and insult Merlin back. But he couldn’t. Not at a time like this.
He stood up, and began pacing around the room. “Merlin. We can’t… I can’t…” He trailed off, remembering once again that this wasn’t a problem like the ones they usually had. The ones that they always beat in the end. This was something new, something they could not fight. Something much worse than anything they had ever encountered.
Then he noticed Merlin, who had been quiet for a while. There were tears in the other man’s face again.
Arthur sighed, falling back into his chair. Everything seemed so different from yesterday. He wished he could go back. And, by the looking at Merlin, he knew they both wanted the same thing.
“It doesn’t matter who I am!” He said, almost yelling. He took a deep breath, and continued, quieter. “There shouldn’t be one rule for me, and a different one for someone else.”
He leaned back in his chair, a bitter look on his face. “And who knows? People would be happy, seeing as so many would love to see me killed.” He didn’t wait for Merlin to respond before he said more.
“And what if…” He hesitated for a second, leaning forward once again and watching the flames dance. “What if you’re tribute?” He nearly whispered. Shaking his his head, he looked at Merlin. He tried to not look worried, but he failed miserably.
It was just like Arthur to be so honourable. So noble. So willing to lay down his life for everyone else. Didn’t he understand that he was the prince? His people needed him here.
Merlin knew better than to try and explain this to him. Instead he bit his lip, considering the other point Arthur made. What is he was the tribute?
“I’m no one,” he said, finally. “It doesn’t matter if I’m the tribute.”
Except it did. He was loathe to admit it, but he was important. He had a destiny. A destiny he needed to follow. He couldn’t do that if he was killed in the arena.
If Merlin was the tribute he could use magic, raising his chances of survival to level with District 3 and District 10, where magic wasn’t outlawed. But what good would that do? If he was victorious he would return to District 7 to hatred and his execution.
But if Arthur was the tribute… well. There was nothing Merlin would be able to do to help him. They would all be doomed.
Merlin closed his eyes and prayed to every god he knew that Arthur wouldn’t be chosen.
It took Arthur a moment to register what Merlin had said. Right. Merlin wasn’t important. He was just a servant. A horrible one at that. But that just made it worse, somehow.
But would it be better if someone else, someone he didn’t know, was tribute? Maybe. Except, the best choice for tribute would be himself. No one else would have to get hurt. Well, that wasn’t really the truth, but it was better than watching Merlin fight, or try to, and die.
“If you’re tribute, I’m going to blame you when I have to get a new servant.” He smiled weakly, observing Merlin’s look of distress that appeared on his face.
He looked back into the fire, shaking his head.
Neither of them were going to be tribute. The odds were in their favour.
