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Merlin never really believed the druids when they told them Emrys meant immortal. The same prophecies that talked of him also talked of Morgana turning evil, and that didn't happen. And he certainly hadn't spent all that time teaching her to control her magic just so he could be her downfall, no matter what any stupid prophecies said. After wasting far too much of his younger years worrying about Kilgarah's cryptic warnings, Merlin tried in general not to think too much about any of it.
Destiny, of course, loved to screw his willful ignorance, because destiny, of course, was a bitch.
It happened during a patrol. Usually, Merlin slept lightly, but he had been exhausted from refreshing the protective wards he placed around the border. They used up a lot of energy, but they were one of the first things he put in place after becoming Court Sorcerer (Although he protests said title on the grounds he is a warlock). They kept sorcerers from laying large scale curses on camelot, while also notifying Merlin for any large threats such as armies trying to cross into their territory. They did not, however, do anything to help enemies inside of Camelot's borders, such as the group of sorcerers who snuck into their camp that night.
Really, after the rest of the patrol going so smoothly, Merlin should have been more cautious. But then again, as a fully realized warlock who no longer had to hide his powers, there wasn't much to he afraid of. He could stop any threat if they got close. Unless, of course, if he was sleeping.
That was how he woke up in a cell with cold iron manacles around his arms, legs, and neck, cutting off his magic. His captors were obviously taking no chances on him escaping with their bindings, but Merlin hadn't expected how painful cold iron was. Yes, theoretically he knew they would cut him of from his magic, and he had some experience with it in small quantities. Practically? They burned like a blacksmith's furnace.
He had no idea how long after he awoke that the robed figure came to him. It could have been hours or minutes, but they were spent doubled over in pain. He made an effort to stand up despite it. "What have you done to my friends?" Merlin growled.
"If they know what's good for them, they are heading back to the city to meet our demands." The man replied calmly.
"Demands? You're going to ransom my life?"
"Oh, no, Emrys. We just didn't want the king to come after you right away. We don't bargain with Pendragons. You will be killed either way."
"Why are you doing this? Magic is legal, now. Besides, what does killing me do for you."
"You are a traitor to your kind!' He replied, the calm facade slipping away into something harsher. "You serve the same line that killed our people without retribution. You have all the power to end his life. You ask me why? Ask yourself the same!"
Merlin pulled against the manacles. "I serve him because he is a good king. Do not cast the sins of the father onto the son."
The man laughed. "You serve him because you are intertwined. Two halves of the same coin. Which is why killing you is what will hurt Arthur Pendragon the most."
A plan of revenge. Merlin didn't speak.
"You will be executed tomorrow. A proper beheading. We would have burned you, but we wanted your body to be recognizable when we sent it back in a box." He finishes, before conjuring up a bowl of water for the cell and walking away.
Merlin spent the next hours of his imprisonment trying to send a message to Arthur. While most magic users couldn't access their magic while in cold iron, Merlin wasn't most. Sweat glistening on his brow from the concentrated effort and pain of it, he eventually managed to send a single orb. He could only hope it would reach him and lead the knights back.
Judging by the chill in the air, it was dawn of the new day. He was dragged out by two figures in identical robes to the man he talked to the night before, but different statures. He tried to kick the one to his left, but he was out of reach. After struggling for a moment, one of the figures hit him with something hard on the back of his head, and everything went dark.
When Merlin woke back up he was tied up in a grand hall. The walls were a rich butter yellow and the fixtures were bronze. It would have been beautiful if it weren't for the fact that he was watching from the angle of a chopping block. It was a beautiful place to die.
There were two robed figures standing by a grand doorway like guards. The two that dragged him there, he realized. Nearest to him was a large an with an axe and executioners hood. Finally, there was a third figure standing before him. He wore robes, but his hood was pulled down.
He was a middle aged man, gaunt faced and lean, with grey hair and a five-a-clock shadow. He had a long staff in one hand. He smiled cruelly when Merlin made eye contact with him.
"Ah, our guest of honor is awake! I do hope your comfortable." He said.
Merlin spat at him, but at the angle he was tied it landed near his feet.
"I see you are anxious to get into the sentencing. Very well. Lord Emrys, Merlin of Ealdor, Son of Balinor, you are charged with misusing the gift of magic, serving the Pendragon regime, and killing your own kin who choose to fight for their people. How do you plead?"
"If serving a good man and protecting him from those who wish him harm is a crime, then I plead guilty on all accounts." Merlin replied.
"Then . . ." But Merlin wouldn't hear the end of that sentence as a commotion outside of the hall destracted there attentions. The guards looked towards the sentence, and when he nodded they opened the door, spells at the ready.
Arthur, Merlin thought. He charged in, covered in blood that Merlin could only hope wasn't his own. He got between the two guards, giving him a momentary advantage as they resisted spelling him so as to not hit their compatriot. He ran one through with his sword, before turning and sweeping the legs of the other. He pulled the sword out of the fallen and used it to finish the other.
"Merlin!" He yelled, but the sentencer sent a blast of magic towards him from the staff.
Arthur dropped and rolled, narrowly avoiding the magic. He rushed towards the sentencer, but he mumbled an incantation and Arthur's sword flew out of his hands and clattered to the ground. Arthur pried the staff out of the sentencer's hands, before tackling him to the floor. As they grappled on the floor, the sentencer hissed. "You are too late, Pendragon," before nodding to the executioner, who raised his axe.
He was too far away. Merlin met Arthur's eyes, glad that they were the last he would see, but sickened by the fact that he would watch as his king saw him die. "Goodbye, clotpole." He said, softly.
The axe came down on his neck with a thud.
He felt the blood rush out of him for what could have only been a second, before he was gone into blissful darkness.
...
When he woke up, he expected to be in Avalon, perhaps greeted by Freya or his father. Instead, he felt a lot of pain, he was covered in something sticky, and someone was sobbing in a frankly annoying way. He was the one that just died. If anything, he deserves to be most upset here.
Then he opened his eyes and was surprised to find Arthur crying over him.
"Rth'r?" Merlin mumbled sleepily.
Arthur's head shot up. "Merlin!" He said, disbelieving, his hands shooting out to cradle Merlin's head. "You were . . . Your pulse was gone. You were gone".
Merlin sat up slightly, looking around. The executioner was dead on the floor, most likely killed by Arthur. They were surrounded in a puddle of blood around Merlin, but when he reached towards his neck, all he felt was a scar. Then he looked down at his hands, where the cold iron shackles had broken apart. Slowly his mind pieced together what happened as Arthur held on to him.
"Shit." Merlin whispered. Arthur looked at him strangely, finally wiping the tears from his eyes.
Merlin spoke louder. "Shit-shit-SHIT-fucking hell- stupid druids- fucking dragon- bitch ass destiny- FUCK -shit-fucking shite"
"Do you have a concussion?" Arthur asked.
"No! Worse." Merlin groaned. "The druids were right. I hoped they meant Emrys metaphorically, but here I am. Shit!". Arthur just looked more concerned. Merlin tried to fill in more of the blanks. "I can't die!"
"I'm pretty sure you just did, actually."
"Well, it didn't fucking stick!".
"And you're complaining? It's a miracle." Arthur said, squeezing Merlin's hands.
"No, it means that the druids were right. You remember when I told you about me being Emrys?"
"That's your name among the druids, correct? They wrote prophecies about you and me, and said you were the greatest sorcerer to ever live."
"Well, Emrys also means Immortal, so now I'm going to be stuck here while everyone else gets to die because DESTINY IS A BITCH!" He yelled the last part.
Arthur gaped at him. "You mean to tell me you didn't think to mention that you're immortal?"
"Not by choice! I was working on the assumption that I could ignore it and it would go away."
"Gods, you're an idiot." Arthur said, before pulling him into a kiss.