A/N I already posted this section as a teaser near the end of my first story. Some small changes here and there, mostly grammatical. Read it again if you like! If you don't want to read the first story, here are the important status updates from my AU:
-Merlin's magic was revealed to Arthur (and Uther), he is now Court Sorcerer. In the last story, he was tortured by a man named Ramsay.
-Uther is in a coma, he was almost killed by Agravaine
-Gwaine, Lancelot, and the knights are in court now
-Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred are with Cenred, still plotting a Camelot takeover
-Gaius has a new apprentice, who is also Arthur's squire, named Ronan
"I told you not to disappoint me."
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. He was completely vulnerable: sitting on a dungeon floor, arms chained above him to a ring in the wall, legs bound in irons chain to a ring on the floor, blindfolded, gagged with a belt, magic-suppressed. He had been tortured by a madman named Ramsay over the last week, who wanted Merlin to cast spells that allowed him to kill and hunt better.
"Is Arthur your former master?" Ramsay crouched down and gripped Merlin's chin tightly. He tried to turn his face away but couldn't release himself from Ramsay's grip. "I'm your master now. I think you need to be given a little reminder." Ramsay leaned his face against Merlin's cheek and stroked it a bit, before whispering, "I think I'll go kill him."
Merlin struggled as much as he could against his bonds, tugging at the rings bolted into the concrete. He felt incredibly frustrated, unable to use his powerful magic, unable to protect anyone, not even himself.
Rnnnghf! He cried out as he felt a hard kick to the ribs.
"Tell you what Merlin, I'm in a good mood today, and I feel like being entertained," Ramsay tugged the blindfold down. Merlin's eyes were bloodshot and moist—he saw everything through a blurry haze due to how tight the blindfold had been cinched around his head. Ramsay went to a table outside the cell, and came back carrying a sinister-looking contraption made out of snake-skin. It looked like a helmet of sorts, composed of various loops and straps that buckled around the head and chin. Ramsay held it up to Merlin's face.
"I'm told this was an instrument of torture, created by High Priestesses from the skins of a Nathair [1] snake." Ramsay pointed at some etchings carved into the skin, "Now I'm going to need your help on this. I'm told that the most powerful warlocks can perform this incantation without even saying the words out loud, and I know you are that powerful, if not more." Ramsay clapped Merlin's shoulder, almost pridefully. Leaning in close to Merlin's ear, he whispered, "Perform the incantation. Say the words in your head."
It was not a request. Merlin knew where this was going, and looked back and forth between the torture device and Ramsay despairingly. Ramsay's nostrils began to flare as he saw Merlin hesitate. His eyes narrowed.
"I will find Arthur, and kill him. I am a VERY good hunter," Ramsay growled.
Not wanting to incite the madman any further, Merlin shifted his eyes to the incantation on the Nathair skin and began saying it in his head. Small flashes of his buried magic shot forth but Merlin could not grasp onto them. Fearfully, he began to imagine a series of gruesome scenarios in which Ramsay captured and killed Arthur, inciting him to persist forth with greater intensity. Finally, his pupils lit up with a faint gold glimmer, and the etchings on the Nathair skin began to glow—Merlin felt a dark force sucking the magic out of his eyes and into the helmet.
"Good!" Ramsay praised, tone now cheerful again as he watched the snake-skin glow bright white, then slowly fade. "Now, I hope you'll reward my magnanimity," he began strapping the contraption around Merlin's head, "—in giving you this minor punishment, which won't even create any lasting physical damage, instead of killing Arthur—and you'll thus not disappoint me, again."
Merlin's breathing began to come in short, panicked bursts. His chains clanked as he struggled weakly against them, unable to break away from this unending nightmare. Distantly, he heard himself gurgling and pleading through the gag. Ramsay ignored this and slowly checked all the buckles on the helmet, making sure everything was strapped down nice and tight. Once he was sure that there was no slack, he stood up to go get a bowl of Fomorrah blood from the table. Coming back in, he crouched down and smiled as he stared at Merlin's terrified eyes, drinking in the delicious fear. Dipping one finger in, he took the inky, black liquid and touched it to a triangle etched on the portion of belt strapped across Merlin's forehead, pressing down. In an instant, Merlin's world was flooded with blinding white agony, worse than anything he'd ever felt before in his life, unbearable. It was like he was being struck with lightning, jolts of electrifying pain coursing through his body up and down, over and over. As all the muscles in his body tensed up, his midsection lifted off the ground, held back only by his restrained limbs. Suddenly it was over—Ramsay had removed his finger, and was smiling widely, almost giddily, at Merlin, obviously entertained by the suffering he had witnessed.
"Arthur's not your master anymore, he doesn't want you. He told me to do this to you," Ramsay taunted. Merlin hung limp in his chains, unresponsive. "Stop being loyal to him, stop resisting me, serve me, I am your new master." Ramsay gripped Merlin's chin with one hand, and held the other hand, the one with the blood-stained finger, close to Merlin's forehead, threateningly.
As terrified as Merlin was, he refused to cede this last part of his dignity to his torturer. He felt like he was going to die soon anyway. He glared into Ramsay's eyes defiantly. Never, his eyes said. Ramsay's face darkened. "I told you not to disappoint me," he pushed his finger to Merlin's forehead again and watched the boy writhe in pain and yelp pitifully like an injured dog, "But you provide entertainment."
Merlin woke up with a shout. His bedsheets were drenched in sweat and he had managed to get tangled up in them. Dim gray lighting of the early morning dawn filled the room, casting shadows along the contours of the bedding. Someone was knocking at the door.
"Sire? Is everything alright?"
Merlin took in a large breath in and held it for a couple seconds, before exhaling it slowly. "It's fine, I'm alright." Clanking metal footsteps slowly receded from the door to Merlin's chambers. His upgraded title as Court Sorcerer had certainly come with its share of benefits, such as swanky new quarters and a large increase in salary. Personally, he missed his little room at the top of Gaius's chambers, but that was now occupied by Arthur's new squire, a boy named Ronan.
"MY LORD!" the doors burst open. Merlin groaned—it was George. Arthur had assigned George to be Merlin's personal manservant, probably as a joke, because he had become more like Merlin's personal stalker. It seemed like every time Merlin turned the corner George was standing there, asking if Merlin needed more food or clothes that needed tailoring. "My lord! I heard that there was a disturbance in your room, and I came as soon as possible. How may I be of assistance?"
"I'm not a lord," Merlin muttered sleepily, "and I'll be fine. There was no disturbance, really."
George clapped his hands and a couple servants came in carrying towels, a water basin, and…were those flower petals?! "You two, go get a fire started," George gestured at two of the boys.
"I…can get ready myself George, I've been telling you…" Merlin mumbled half-heartedly, trailing off as he saw one of the servants sprinkle petals into the wash basin. "Erm…"
"The physician has informed us that these petals have excellent calming effects and should be helpful when used long-term for your recent night terrors."
"Oh. Great." It'll also be helpful for Arthur…who obviously needs more reasons to call me a girl. Merlin rolled his eyes and smiled, thankful to be back in the waking world, where he was serving his best friend, Arthur, the once and future king, and no longer at the hands of a psychopath torturer. Rolling off the bed, he started get ready for the day.
*M*~*M*~*M*~*M*~*M*~*M*
"Come in!" Gaius answered when he heard a knock on the door. Looking at Ronan, "You better finish that quickly."
The boy made a face but quickly began shoveling the porridge down. Gaius turned around to see Merlin step in, who seemed to hover hesitantly at the door, "Oh…you're still having breakfast, I can come back."
"No, no, that's fine. I have more time to talk now than later actually. In the afternoon I will be going to the Lower Town." Gaius ushered Merlin towards the table, and had him sit down next to Ronan, who scooted away.
"Wow, I don't remember Gaius's food being that appetizing," Merlin joked as he watched Ronan inhale the food before him.
Ronan shrugged, "I don't want to be late." As he slurped up the last little morsels, he jumped up and headed for the door.
"Don't forget to pick me up some of those herbs I asked for when you finish on the training field!" Gaius reminded.
Merlin felt a small twinge of nostalgia mixed with a hint of jealousy, noting that these tasks used to fall under his domain. "How's he doing?"
"Quite well actually, not as talkative as you were," Gaius's eyes twinkled. "Which always surprised me, given the gravity of your secrets." Merlin gave a lopsided grin as Gaius shook his head and sat down to eat his breakfast. Gaius sniffed the air, "You used the violet water. How has your sleeping been?"
Merlin sighed, "It's strange. I had a remarkable recovery after the first couple weeks, but then things got worse for a while."
Gaius chewed thoughtfully, "That makes sense, your initial recovery could have been more adrenaline-related, and after it wore off your body had to climb itself out of a vastly weakened state. Your body as well as your mind."
Merlin nodded, "It was more than adrenaline though, it felt like, external help…magical healing, as I mentioned to you before."
"You really think another sorcerer may have assisted in your escape? Why didn't they come forth as your savior then?"
"Not sure…but I'm sure their magic was healing me in those first couple weeks. I think also, that whoever cast the spells, wasn't well-versed in this type of magic, and thus left behind some unintended side effects."
"Side effects? Like what?"
"Well, I think sometimes I see flashes, memories, except they're not my memories, they're somebody else's."
"Oh? Did you figure out who saved you then?"
"Not really…it was too fragmented," Merlin said, but an underlying suspicion crossed his mind. He didn't say it out loud, because the thought seemed preposterous. "Well I've got to get going, I have a big meeting with some of the councilors today," Merlin got up and headed for the door—images of purple violets, sunshine, and billowing black hair running through his head.
"Speak directly Morgana, what is it you want to know?"
Morgana quelled the sense of revulsion she felt as she regarded the shriveled old creature before her. It was the Dochraid. "I want to know more information about this particular type of magic. The scroll doesn't elaborate beyond the mentioning of mental stability."
"It is a derivative enchantment—a twisted version of a purer, more powerful spell. The original magic has become lost to this world, all traces of it wiped after Uther's Purge. Luckily, most priestesses of the Old Religion preferred this dark version anyway, which survived." The Dochraid bared her teeth in what seemed to be an attempt at a smile, "For those who are ruthless enough, the enchantment has many shortcuts that allow the practitioner to quickly increase their power level. For example, once the first basic proficiency with the incantation been achieved, after the forty days, a practitioner may drink the blood of other sorcerers to rapidly increase magic power.
Morgana shuddered internally, "I see."
"Depending on the amount consumed, and whether or not the other sorcerer was killed in the process, this method combines not only the powers of both sorcerers into one body, but also melds the souls and memories of both people. It creates…a new and different person. As you might imagine, this bodes ill for mental stability..."
"That's enough!" Morgana caught herself before her outburst got out of control, "Thank you. I'll be on my way." The Dochraid bowed and disappeared into the shadows. Morgana, heart plagued with worry, crossed her arms and strode briskly out of the cave, back towards Cendred's castle, where Morgause and Mordred were discussing the plans for luring Merlin into a trap.
[1] Season 4 Episode 13: The Sword in the Stone