Title: The Mad King
Characters/Pairings: Merlin, Will
Rating/Warnings: K
Universe: Canon
Word Count: 735
Summary: Uther was a force in Merlin's life long before he left Ealdor.

The day before Merlin left for Camelot, Will woke him at dawn by kicking him in the leg and dropping a fishing rod on his face before storming out again. It was the first time he'd seen Will - really, properly seen him — since he'd told him he was leaving, because Will had been stubbornly avoiding him ever since, and so Merlin resisted the urge to tell him to shove off and let him sleep, and followed him out a minute later, cramming a bit of bread in his pocket for breakfast.

They hiked out to the river and hunted for worms on the bank, which usually meant dirt rubbed in each other's eyes and worms shoved down the backs of each other's shirts, but Will was still glowering at everything except Merlin and Merlin didn't feel quite up to being murdered this morning by pushing his luck, so for the first time in memory it was a solemn, quick affair, and they baited their hooks and settled in for the morning before the mist had cleared over the water.

A heavy silence still hung between them, keeping Merlin uncomfortable and awake, because he didn't know why Will was so angry with him and so he didn't know what to say to fix it. Instead they sat stiffly side-by-side for hours, catching nothing but weeds and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, and Merlin had never felt so miserably awkward around his friend in his life, not even after Will had finally learned about his magic and Merlin had hovered in a terrified state of not knowing whether his secret was safe with Will or not and tried not to call Will all sorts of names for leaving him like that for a week, just in case it wasn't.

"Don't get caught by the mad king," Will said suddenly, fiercely, still refusing to look at him and glaring out over the water instead. "Don't you dare get caught."

And suddenly Merlin understood. He could read it in the set of Will's shoulders, in the white-knuckled grip he had on his fishing rod, in his silence in the last few days.

Will was afraid.

His whole life Merlin had been warned against Uther Pendragon, taught to never draw attention to himself or his powers so that the mad king of Camelot wouldn't catch him. He had cast a shadow over Merlin's life since the second he had shown signs of magic as an infant. He was the bogeyman of his childhood, only this monster was real — he wasn't some nightmare that could be chased away with age and daylight, because he loomed larger with every passing year as Merlin outgrew the childish fear of a story and felt true terror settle into his bones with the knowledge that there really was someone out there who would execute him for his very nature.

And now that Merlin's magic had grown out of control, now that he was struggling to hide it as it spilled out of him — now he was walking into the lion's den, and Will, who had harbored his secret without question, who had come to hate Uther on Merlin's behalf with fearsome intensity — Will could do nothing to stop him. All he could do was wait at home with Hunith for the news of Merlin's execution, and then Merlin would be gone without even a goodbye, just like Will's da in the war, and his mam and sister when the sickness took them.

"I won't be caught," he answered, his throat suddenly very constricted. "That's why I'm going — to learn control, yeah? I'll be able to hide it better than ever. And I probably won't ever see him, anyway."

"Yeah," croaked Will, his voice sounding suspiciously tight as well. "What would your ugly mug be doing in a castle?"

And even though Merlin dumped him in the river after that, and Will dragged him in with him; even though the awkwardness and anger dissipated and the day ended in laughter; still, the next morning when Will showed up in Merlin's garden to see him off, he hugged him hard and long and whispered, "Be careful," in his ear, and Merlin could only nod, throat tight once again, because they both knew no matter how careful he was it wouldn't matter in the end, because they called Uther the mad king for a reason.