Samhain had never been one of Arthur's favorite things to celebrate, what with its close connection to the Old Religion that was so condemned in Camelot. Judging by how Merlin would act each time the day came near, Merlin didn't like Samhain much either - though his reasons likely did not match with Arthur's. None the less, Arthur would find himself more often than not celebrating the feast without his servant to stand behind him, the spot instead filled by other faceless men and women who weren't Merlin while Merlin was laid up in Gaius's chambers, "ill" - in the future, he would roll his eyes as Merlin collapsed and Lancelot ran to him, thinking it one of Merlin's attempts to get out of serving at the Samhain feast, and then later hate himself and his uncaring attitude as Merlin leapt into the path of a ghost for him. At the feasts without Merlin though, Arthur would laugh and joke and eat of that year's plentiful harvest, and would do his best to forget of Merlin's absence by smiling and nodding at everything his father said. His father didn't like Samhain either, but the king had never dared to prohibit the celebration that marked the end of the harvest season. The more supernatural aspects of Samhain though were rather informally banned, but feasts and fires still were abundant on that night. Unlike Merlin was.

The very next day, Arthur's curtains would be torn open, and Merlin would smile cheerily at him. When Arthur would try to comment on how much better and less ill his friend was looking - with no dubious tone or ulterior motive at all - Merlin would shove a fresh roll of bread into his face rather rudely, Arthur would attempt to find something to throw at his servant, instead would collapse back to the bed with a raging headache from the night before, and that would be that.

But Arthur would never forget that one Samhain - a night like the others of its kind when he had returned to his chambers alone after a night of more meat, bread, and fresh fruit than he could ever remember seeing in one place. Yet this night when had looked out his window in an offhanded glance, he had had to backtrack quickly and gaze through the glass again. What had caught Arthur's eye had been Merlin, standing out by the fire lit in the courtyard in celebration with his back to Arthur's window. Whether Merlin had stood as such purposefully or not had never been clear to Arthur, who had stared out his window for a longer time than necessary, waiting for Merlin to move. Merlin never did.

Arthur had gone to bed that night feeling deeply unsettled, and so resolved to keep Merlin at his side at all times the next Samhain to prevent a repeat of that night's events. That resolution though fell through the next two years, Merlin somehow managing to duck Arthur's efforts and remain elusive till the next day. Arthur looked out his window both those Samhains after the feast, and thankfully Merlin was not ever seen standing by the fire again.

But that didn't mean Arthur could let Merlin's avoidance of Samhain's traditions continue, and so Arthur was going to get Merlin to celebrate with him, the correct way, if it killed him.

"The lower town sure is quiet tonight." Merlin mused, walking alongside his prince with that casual gait which he seemed to eternally walk with. Arthur's footsteps were a bit more deliberate and forceful, the difference in their strides saying much about their personalities. Tonight though, Arthur tried to match his steps with Merlin's, as if walking like him as he dragged his friend along would somehow give him insight into what thoughts were running through Merlin's mind that Samhain.

"Well, everyone is either asleep or too drunk on honey wine to move by now." Arthur pointed out, nodding his head in example at the doors to The Rising Sun, which seemed to swing continuously with how many bodies were forcing their way in and out, and yet now were silent and still.

"Yeah, tell me again why we aren't joining them?" Merlin asked with a cheeky smile, the smile Arthur had recognized he wore when Merlin was deliberately trying to be difficult or witty, the two adjectives were interchangeable for Arthur. Arthur would not rise to the bait this time though and banter back, or else he'd find himself either laughing or flustered with annoyance very soon. They had very important things to see to, and Arthur would be damned if he let Merlin slip away into the night another Samhain simply because he had lost himself in his servant's games.

"Because, we're going to honor the dead." Arthur answered, voice a calm and cool tone of explanation.

"Alright, that explains why you aren't drunk or in bed, but I don't see why I have to come along too."

Arthur grit his teeth, stopped himself from gritting his teeth, and marched onwards through the lower town without gracing Merlin with an answer to the blatantly disrespectful comment.

Although, Merlin did have a point. The lower town of Camelot was ridiculously quiet, with no one out of their homes, where as any other festival it was hard for the guards to even clear the streets of stumbling drunkards or giggling children up to no good. Arthur had made this journey many times on Samhain night, and perhaps it was the added presence of Merlin that was making him suddenly hyper aware of the state of his city, for he couldn't remember the aftermath of the Samhain feast to ever be so silent.

Merlin had once told him, in those rare moments leading up to Samhain when he wasn't being eerily quiet and looking increasingly more ill the closer they came to the day, that back in Ealdor the feast and lighting of the fires was then followed by a time when the children of the village would all don masks and run from house to house. Merlin didn't tell Arthur all the details though, but he remembered that each mask was unique, as the child would have made it themselves from fabric or wood or whatever was available for them to use. They would rush around in groups, giggling and with baskets upon their arms, chanting songs and words to any adult that opened their door to them. In reward for their songs and chants - chants of words that they did not understand, but Merlin seemed to always understand with scary clarity, that were supposedly said to ward off evil spirits - the adults would give food to the children, things like bits of bread or dried fruits, in the spirit of the end of the harvest. Merlin himself would never run around with the other children, far too afraid that he would never get any food from any home or that the children would be cruel to him. Instead, he would stay home with his mother and work to dry berries or fruits for Hunith to hand out to masked children, working with eyes glazed and face becoming paler the closer to midnight the day grew.

The next day though, Merlin would always wake up slowly to see Will there, his mask - which always was made to look like some type of bird - pushed away from his face on his head, and a basket of sweets and goodies in his hands for he and Merlin to share. Merlin would grin, and sometimes when he was especially tired he would cry only a little bit, and Will would smack him over the head gently but be grinning just as widely.

Arthur then smacked Merlin over the head, none too gently. Merlin bent slightly as he reached up to cradle the offended spot on the back of his head, "Ow- what was that for?" He gasped, rubbing his fingers into his hair.

"For zoning out." Arthur said back, and Merlin glanced up to realize they were at the gates of Camelot already, the guards standing aside obediently as their prince made his way towards them, "C'mon Merlin," Arthur said, and continued on and out into the land around Camelot's walls without hesitation. Merlin huffed, waved his hand quickly to the guards in greeting, feeling a bit sorry for them that they had to stand out by the Camelot wall even during the most frightening night of the year, and hurried on after Arthur.

Thankfully, the hallowed land which was the burial grounds for fallen knights was not too far past the white outer walls of Camelot, put close to the city so that the walk wasn't too hard on old grieving mothers or lonely pregnant widows - or at least, that's what Arthur said to Merlin when he asked why the burial grounds were so close. In truth, Arthur knew they were close for convenience. It was far easier to toss a knight's body into earth when it was close rather than when it was far, or at least it was for those knights that died close enough to Camelot so as to join their brothers in the graveyard. Those that fell on plains in battle were buried where they last stepped, and their cloaks and swords were buried in the graveyard in their stead.

Arthur always visited the graveyard on Samhain, after he visited the tombs beneath the castle. The tombs beneath the castle were where his mother and other relatives were laid to rest after all. Uther never knew that Arthur visited there after the feast, but many times Arthur had had to move his visit to the next morning, as he had come around the corner only to find Uther with his head bowed over Ygraine's casket. The king's face was always either a mask of emotionlessness, or broken and cracked with grieving gasps. Arthur never cried while visiting his mother though, after all, he had never known her enough to shed tears over her - only really grieve for what could have been.

With a glance to Merlin who still followed dutifully - if reluctantly - behind him, Arthur wondered idly whether Merlin ever grieved for his father and if he ever shed tears while he did so. But then again, Merlin had admitted to Arthur that he and his mother did not know of his absent father's fate. He always fell oddly quiet afterwards, and Arthur always felt a bit guilty without really understanding why.

The graveyard was fenced off with thin posts of wood, posts that were easily able to be moved incase the area needed for graves was to suddenly expand. The land was always blessed each time a man was buried within it, done so at Uther's request to not only deter spirits, fairies, and necromancers, but to also sanctify the body of the knights and help them reach heaven through that.

With a deep breath upon reaching the line of posts, Arthur stepped onto the hallowed ground. The sound of Merlin's footsteps suddenly stopped behind him, and so Arthur turned to raise an eyebrow at the other man, who had stopped just before the entrance to the graveyard. Merlin's eyes were warily following the line of posts where they led off and disappeared into the darkness, some of them darned with ribbons and effects from the ladies left behind by the knights who resided within the long perimeter.

Arthur let out a heavy breath through his nose and rolled his eyes, "Don't tell me you're scared." He said, already closing his mind to any excuse that Merlin might answer with. He could already see the lie forming on his manservant's tongue.

Merlin stood there and sucked at his teeth with his tongue, hesitating a moment before answering surprisingly, "No." Then he took a brave step past the posts, the one on his left wrapped with haunting white strings.

Immediately, Merlin fell to the ground, tripping over his toes and falling to all fours upon the dirt. Arthur huffed out a laugh, but immediately reigned in his reactions as he remembered that he was in a solemn place of mourning and respect which laughter had no place in. Merlin seemed to be struggling with himself on the ground, hands splayed before him and arms trembling ever so slightly. Eventually, he pulled his hands away from the dirt, yanking them up towards his chest as if yanking them away from a fire. Then he rose back to his feet slowly, as if terribly injured.

They didn't have time for this. Arthur stomped over, grabbed Merlin's forearm, and helped Merlin stand. "Come on you clumsy oaf." He muttered, releasing Merlin as soon as he was sure that Merlin was standing and steady, then walking deeper in amongst the mounds of dirt and land. Merlin frowned, but didn't banter back, walking uncertainly after Arthur without saying a word. It was a huge contrast from how he had been chatting to the prince on the way to the hallowed ground, and Arthur found himself feeling slightly worried - but no, it was probably a trick, something Merlin was doing to show his displeasure with the situation and try to get out of observing the right traditions of Samhain. He had been absent at the feast again, and it was only through a stroke of luck that Arthur had managed to catch Merlin in the castle halls and drag him along as Arthur left to go honor the dead.

"Can we leave now?"

Arthur turned to Merlin, unsure at first if he had really heard what he had heard.

"What?"

Merlin looked tired, and his hands were tucked beneath his arms. He didn't look at Arthur as he repeated, "Can we leave?"

Arthur felt anger flash through him. He had been concerned before, worried that Merlin was simply afraid or one of those superstitious types who believed the veil to be thin the night of Samhain - those types of people never seemed to leave their homes during Samhain, and that would have been alright for Merlin to do if he wasn't Arthur's servant and friend - but to show such blatant disrespect for the men who had laid down their lives to keep the kingdom safe was ridiculously cruel of Merlin, and Arthur wasn't going to put up with it.

"No, we cannot leave. These men fell for Camelot and should be honored for that on this night at the very least." Arthur hissed, not moving. Merlin frowned at the ground, arms tightening around himself oddly. Arthur blinked then, as his previous thought of Merlin being one of those superstitious types came back to him. The boy always seemed to jump when magic was mentioned too. "You are scared aren't you?" Arthur said, coming to that conclusion and announcing it with a pointed finger Merlin's direction. Merlin finally looked up then, eyes wide and red rimmed and his face pinched as if in pain.

"What- no I'm-"

Arthur stalked forward and jabbed his finger into Merlin's chest, and the younger man swayed backwards, but didn't move his feet at all. "You are!" Arthur gasped as if he'd just answered the greatest question of all time.

Merlin snapped then, taking one hand out from under his arm and swatting Arthur's finger away with a vicious snap of his wrist, "Okay, fine! Yeah, I'm scared, congratulations Arthur you've figured me out. Now can we go?"

But Arthur wasn't paying attention to what Merlin said, he was looking at Merlin's hand that remained raised somewhat, ready to smack Arthur's finger away again should it dare to come near. The hand - Merlin's right - had been perfectly fine earlier that night, but was now colored a hot, angry red and had round blisters peppering the pressure points of the palm.

"Merlin." Arthur said, voice tight with both anger at Merlin's actions and the conflicting concern he felt for him. "What happened to your hand?"

Merlin stuck his hand back under his armpit, eyes back to being wide like a startled deer's. "Nothing." He opened and shut his mouth with no sound for a moment, as if contemplating what to say, and then spun abruptly on his heel in the hallowed dirt, "I'm leaving. Sorry I can't honor the dead with you but I just remembered something Gaius wanted me to do tonight and it's really late and-"

Arthur caught Merlin's arm and stopped his friend's babbling, his concern now far outweighing the anger he had felt at anything Merlin had callously said, likely having said it only to try and make an out for himself, and not because he was truly being so disrespectful. "Gods, Merlin." Arthur said, smiling a bit shakily, trying to calm his friend with some of their usual conversations, "Don't be such a girl. It's Samhain, yes, but don't worry." Merlin's shoulders were trembling, and Arthur squeezed a bit tighter the arm he had in his grip, "I won't let the spirits get you." He glanced at the tips of Merlin's fingers that he could just see poking out under his arms, the skin red and painful looking. "So just do this one thing for me, and I'll…"

"...Will you give me a day off?"

Arthur let a grin slowly grow on his face. Merlin had yet to turn around though. "Yes, fine, as long as you finish up this Samhain with me."

Merlin turned his head and blinked at Arthur, but then a moment later he was pulling his arm from the prince's gloved grip. "No thanks."

He stepped back over the line of poles marking out the hallowed ground, and immediately took a deep breath as if he had been underwater the entire time. Arthur watched Merlin's back, watched his attempt to keep his friend at his side and to have him observe Samhain's traditions slip away, and surprisingly, he just let it happen.

"I think he's caught on, Gaius."

Arthur froze, his fist poised to knock upon Gaius' tower door to check upon the physician and Merlin, as he heard Merlin's tired voice filter through the wood. He had let his friend walk away from the resting place of the knights nearly an hour or two ago - surely it hadn't taken that long for Merlin to merely walk through the lower town and back to Gaius? Had Merlin been telling the truth when he had mentioned a chore that Gaius had wanted him to do?

Arthur lowered his hand and, with guilt pulsing through him, brought his ear to the door instead. He couldn't see what was going on inside, but could hear Gaius shuffling around the room, clinking bottles of tinctures and tonics around as he searched for something.

"Well, if he has, its because you weren't being careful again." Gaius admonished his ward, and then muttered beneath, "Now where are those bandages. You see, this is why I don't let you organize my supplies, Merlin."

Bandages. So the burns he had seen on Merlin's hand hadn't been a misinterpretation in the dark of the night, that is, if that was what Gaius was looking for bandages for.

"He took me to the knights' resting place outside the city walls to honor them, Gaius. Hallowed ground. And he wouldn't let me out of his sight. He wouldn't let me leave until I'd fallen and burned myself on the earth."

Arthur's eyes widened, and he pressed his ear closer. Surely he had heard incorrectly. How in hell could Merlin burn himself on the ground? There had been none of the Samhain fires lit around the graveyard, and Arthur certainly had seen nothing that would have burned Merlin lying across the ground when Merlin had tripped clumsily and fell. And what did the fact that the knights' resting place was hallowed ground have to do with anything? Everyone knew that.

Gaius sighed, "That doesn't mean he knows Merlin." There came a sharp gasp from Merlin, "Stay still now." Gaius instructed, and judging from the silence that fell after, Merlin had obeyed or was biting his lip as the bandages were wrapped around his hands.

Hesitantly, Merlin spoke up again. "...It's getting harder, Gaius." He whispered, tone so low Arthur almost hadn't heard them. "I hear them, see their faces, and I can't stop- I can't- I had to have you tie me down these last two Samhains. And when Arthur took me to that place-" He sucked in a breath, and the glass bottles on Gaius' shelves rattled within the room, the cause unknown to Arthur. "It was really hard."

Gaius shushed his ward in a lower whisper than Merlin had spoke with, his words just out of Arthur's hearing range. The bottles slowly ceased their rattling, and then Gaius' words suddenly could be heard clearly again. "Don't worry my boy, please don't. Everything will end up alright. You'll see." Arthur could practically hear Merlin attempting to open his mouth and object, but Gaius was on a roll, and no one was about to stop the old man now, "How about we get you to bed so you can be up and ready to serve Arthur tomorrow morn. I'm sure he suspects nothing, but he certainly will if he sees you standing out by the fire again."

There was something they weren't telling him, Gaius and Merlin both, and Arthur knew this now. He felt betrayal and something thick and dark roll in his gut, but tried to keep his trust in his two most trusted advisors. This was Gaius and Merlin after all, but surely the issue was nothing good if Merlin had to be tied to his bed.

"Yeah… Y-yeah okay." Merlin conceded eventually, the creak of stairs that followed his words letting Arthur know he and Gaius were heading up into Merlin's odd little room. A moment more of standing there - the crown prince of Camelot with his ear pressed to a rotting wooden door, what a sight he must be - Arthur pulled away when nothing else was heard or said. His mind swirled though with all he had heard and seen that Samhain night, memories of Merlin's burned hands and words of hallowed ground occupying his thoughts all the way back to his chambers. When he arrived there, Arthur realized, still a bit dazed, that he had no servant to help him dress for the night - which had been the primary reason he had made the trek all the way up to Gaius' tower. He wasn't about to return now though, not when Merlin had obviously forgotten his duties and was likely firmly secured to his bed to prevent… whatever it was Gaius and Merlin were efforting to prevent. Arthur shook his head sharply and sighed vocally, as if trying to expel all the bad thoughts with that one breath. He tugged his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor, hardly caring that Merlin would gripe about it in the morning when he picked it up. He crossed the stone floor to his dresser and began to search half heartedly for his nightshirt, wondering where Merlin had put it, when he happened to glance out the window by accident.

There, standing out in the courtyard, was Merlin. The fire set up in the center had long since gone out though, and so instead of facing the pot of ash and wood, Merlin was staring intently up at Arthur's windows, as if he could sense the fire Arthur had in his fireplace - a fire Arthur had not noticed until that moment. Perhaps a servant had lit it before he had returned to his chambers? The white bandages around Merlin's hands stood out hauntingly in the weak light of the castle torches, and the whites of Merlin's eyes even more so. Arthur had no idea how long they stood there staring at each other through the thin glass window, but Arthur got the distinct feeling that Merlin was not staring at him, that Merlin couldn't see anything. When Arthur finally backed to his bed, feeling extremely unsettled, Merlin still had yet to move or even blink. Arthur almost preferred it when Merlin had had his back to Arthur's window. He preferred it most when Merlin didn't stand out there at all. Binding Merlin to his bed hadn't seemed to work that night. Arthur wondered why.

That Samhain, Arthur did not sleep. Yet somehow - it was as if he had blinked - Merlin was there, pulling open his curtains as if they had not been left open the night before by a shaken up prince. Oddly, Merlin's hands had no bandages wrapped around them, and were smooth and white, as if no burn had ever marred the skin there.

Arthur saw Merlin preparing himself with a roll of bread to shove in Arthur's mouth in case Arthur were to open his mouth and ask, but Arthur said nothing.

Instead, he wondered to himself if he was going mad.

AN: Well, here's the Samhain oneshot I mentioned in another of my stories that I'd write! It's a bit late, true, and the ending fell a little flat (hopefully all the open endedness adds to the mystique, but yeah, I certainly didn't tell the story I wanted to tell. Perhaps another time these words will work with me better) but I still hope you all enjoy it!

A bit of background though:

Samhain is a celtic/pagan festival marking the end of the harvest season and the start of the celtic new year. it was celebrated in medieval times by large feasts or get togethers in which the best of the last harvest would be shared, and then there would be rituals done with ceremonial fires that would remain lit until the end of the night (similar to how Beltane was celebrated) after the feast though children and some adults would don masks which they believed would confuse spirits who crossed the veil - which was believed to be the thinnest at Samhain, especially at midnight - and would run from door to door saying prayers and singing songs to confuse the spirits even more. in return for the songs and prayers the children would be given bits of food left over from the feast (so that nothing was wasted) (this running from door to door for food business sound familiar?) these customs eventually evolved over time into the mess of candy and costumes we call halloween today.

the hallowed ground bit is different from any Samhain lore - but, there is the myth that beings with magic or those who practice magic cannot enter hallowed ground, as they supposedly "sold their soul to the devil, and so God rejects them." Merlin didn't really get a choice whether he sold his soul or not - but in this i took some liberties, and am interpreting that myth for Merlin's sake as, Magic = Old Religion, Hallowed Ground = New Religion, New Religion repels Old Religion = burnt Merlin because hallowed ground doesn't agree with him.

I might continue this or make it into a series of "supernatural themed" oneshots, as the fact that Merlin is so in tune with magic as to sense magic and get those "funny feelings" has always been interesting to me, and I feel they didn't truly use that aspect of him to its full potential in the show. Supernatural things are also a huge topic i've researched though, and so I'd love to be able to show off my knowledge with some cool short stories now and then. As for now though, this shall remain a creepy oneshot that hopefully has left you with more questions than answers. I'm not too great at writing horror or creepy things, but I hope the "unsettling vibe" still got through in my words.

Please review!