My very first fanfiction! It is an unabashed course of hurt/comfort, with a heaping serving of bromance, a dash of Merlin!Whump, and a side of BAMF!Merlin and BAMF!Arthur, with a little bit of knights, Gwen, Freya, and plot for added spice. Takes place in a slightly AU, slightly wobbly timeline, fourth season-ish, but you'll figure out what's different as you read. Rated T for violence. I would love to see reviews, as this is my first fic so I'm a bit nervous. No beta reader so apologies for any errors. Criticism is welcome, but be gentle!
Author's new note: Wow, thanks to everyone who wrote reviews. Your kind words have totally alleviated my Losing My Fanfiction Virginity nerves, and I have to admit they made me giggle like a schoolgirl and exclaim, "People actually like my story!" Thanks again! Now I need to think of something new to write...
I. Not a Rescue
Arthur could swear Excalibur was vibrating in his hand, but he figured that was just the adrenaline. He hadn't used this sword since he had banished Merlin, but something had told him that this was the sword he needed to bring. The sword that Merlin had led him to. The sword in the stone. The sword that had reminded him who he was, and had given him the strength to be king of Camelot once more.
He motioned silently to his men to follow, as they crept down the dark corridors of Cenred's castle. Cenred had chosen an ancient citadel, remote and well positioned, high upon a coastal cliff. Arthur had brought only his most faithful knights: Leon, Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine. He knew that a small and stealthy team of men was the best chance he had at accomplishing this…this…was it a rescue mission? Arthur wasn't sure. He didn't know what he would do with Merlin once he'd freed him from Cenred's grasp.
A wave of anger temporarily blinded Arthur as he thought of his former servant. He felt anger at Merlin for his betrayal, he felt anger at himself for allowing yet another person to get close enough to hurt him. He felt anger at his knights, who seemed as if they couldn't even bring themselves to have opinions on the matter. Gwaine had barely spoken to Arthur in months, sure, but neither had he left Arthur's service to stand at Merlin's side – it seemed Gwaine was just as confused as Arthur was, when it came to all of this.
And Arthur was confused, or perhaps conflicted was the better word, Arthur wasn't sure. All he was sure of was that he was angry. He felt anger at Gwen, and the way she quietly blamed him: Gaius had been falling ill often as of late, "A broken heart," Gwen had said. More than anything, he felt anger at the way Merlin had stood before him, defeated, when Arthur had banished him from Camelot to return upon pain of death. Merlin was never defeated. But he had left, silently, head bowed. He didn't know why, but seeing Merlin defeated angered Arthur more than anything else.
As usual the anger was followed by a wave of shame. Arthur tried to quell it. He had done nothing wrong! It was Merlin who had betrayed him. It was Merlin who was a traitor to the crown and to Camelot. But Arthur stopped and shuddered when an image from last night's nightmare flashed into his mind. He had dreamed it so many times in the months since Merlin had left that it seemed permanently etched on the lens of his mind's eye: It was the day that he had banished Merlin, and the two of them faced each other in the court, surrounded by all the people they knew and loved, but their roles were reversed; Arthur knelt painfully on the hard floor, his head downcast in shame. Merlin stood in front of him, anger emanating from his every pore. "You betrayed me, Arthur," he said. "How could you?"
"Arthur, are you alright?" he felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Leon.
"Yes," whispered Arthur, "We keep going."
The knights were eager; Arthur could sense it in their every movement. When Arthur's spies had brought word that Cenred had been enslaving magical people, the knights had become tense, and though they might deny it, Arthur knew that it wasn't just fear for the kingdom that had them on edge. When the spies had brought word that Merlin had been taken captive, the tension became palpable, and Arthur knew they had to act.
Arthur had heard of kings doing this before, long in the past: They would capture sorcerers, and either bribe or enslave them, exploiting their power. It seemed that Morgause had given Cenred a taste of the power of magic, and now he was unable to let it go. Arthur knew that there existed manacles and chains that were enchanted, and could bind a sorcerer's magic, to be released only when the power-hungry king allowed. Indeed, a giant set of such chains had held the Great Dragon prisoner beneath Camelot for nearly two decades. Above all, Arthur knew that Merlin was powerful. Very powerful. He had seen it with his own eyes when Merlin brought Morgause and her army down. He shuddered again at the memory of that day.
Merlin could destroy Camelot with a wave of his hand.
So why didn't he? Asked the niggling voice from the back of his skull that had berated Arthur for the past four months.
Arthur ignored it. It was for Camelot that he and his knights rode into an enemy realm. It was for Camelot that he and his knights would retrieve the sorcerer from Cenred's clutches. It was for Camelot, and nothing more.
Liar.
Arthur heard someone speak. He and his men had crept along the top of a low, partially ruined wall of the ancient citadel. They raised their heads as high as they dared and looked out over the wall onto the court below.
It was late in the evening and the court was illuminated by dozens of torches, along with the faint light of the sunset from the west. The court was partially ruined, the eastern wall entirely missing, while a piece of the northern wall crumbled half away. The remains of once fine tapestries hung from the stone walls, and fluttered in the gentle breeze of the warm summer's evening. A weather-stained throne stood vacant at one end of the court, and a few tables lined the remaining walls, but the half-room was otherwise unfurnished.
Arthur and his men looked down from the western wall, and what was left of the roof jutted out over their heads and partially covered the court, cloaking them in shadow. From this vantage point Arthur could see how high up they were. The citadel was tiered, and stood on a cliff overlooking the forest on one side and the sea on the other. On the tier below the court, Arthur could see over a hundred of Cenred's men. He and his knights had crept through filthy tunnels to avoid Cenred's army, and they would have to be just as stealthy if ever they were going to get out of this place.
Two score or more of Cenred's soldiers surrounded the perimeter of the court, and in the center knelt a thin and shaking figure. Merlin.
Cenred walked toward his captive, and he was close enough that Arthur could almost spit on him.
Arthur could see the enchanted manacles from where he crouched, two at Merlin's wrists, held together with heavy chains, and another around his neck. The magical bonds glistened unnaturally bright in the torchlight.
Merlin looked terrible. Arthur knew he had been in Cenred's hands for at least three weeks, and it was clear that he had been brutally tortured many times over that period. He wore no shirt, and Arthur could see the bloodied lashes of a whip streaking his back. His chest was equally marred, with a crisscross of cuts and a few deep gouges that could have been made only by a slowly moving blade. His trousers were in tatters, so much so that his right buttock and leg were almost completely bare, covered by hardly more than two strips of fabric held up by his belt and pulled together again at the cuff. Where his skin showed through his clothing, Arthur could see vicious bruises and gashes, running all the way from Merlin's backside down to his ankle. Patches of blistered skin told Arthur that he'd been burned, and his left hand looked as if every finger had been broken.
Arthur had seen torture before, but the wave of nausea that struck him now was almost overpowering. A surge of blind rage followed and he felt himself being held back. "No! Sire, not yet! You'll only get yourself killed!" Whispered Leon harshly from behind him, his grip tight on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur looked back, and saw Percival and Elyan similarly restraining Gwaine.
Then they heard a whip crack, followed by a weak moan, and their attention was collectively drawn back to the drama playing out in the courtyard below.
Cenred crouched before Merlin, his hand gently gripping the young man's chin. Behind Merlin, a man with a whip flexed his arm. "We can stop, now," Cenred said gently, "It's all up to you, boy." Merlin just stared at the floor in silence. "There doesn't have to be any more pain." Cenred brushed a lock of black hair from Merlin's forehead. "Do you remember what I told you?" he asked, still speaking in a low and soothing voice, "You can be happy here. Everything your heart desires will be yours."
"Never," said Merlin, so quietly that Arthur could barely make it out.
Cenred backed away, the crack of a whip, a quiet cry of pain, and then a gasp. Arthur just now noticed that there was a woman standing some feet behind Cenred, dressed in pale blue silk, her long, golden hair adorned with jewels that glittered in the torchlight, and upon her head a crown. He had heard Cenred had got himself a queen. The woman had her hand to her mouth, for it was she who had gasped, but when she withdrew it Arthur saw a sickening grin on her face. She watched hungrily as the king walked back to Merlin again, kneeling before him and stroking his hair comfortingly.
"You don't even have to do anything big yet, just something small, to show me that you can use your magic for me." Here Cenred stood and retrieved a cup of water, bringing it back to Merlin. "Just something small, and you can have a reward. Come now, boy, aren't you thirsty?"
"Never," said Merlin again, and the whip cracked, and the young man cried out, and the queen gasped with delight.
"Stubborn little runt," Cenred said, standing and throwing the cup of water to the floor in frustration. Arthur felt his stomach clench as he watched Merlin's eyes linger on the spilled liquid. "Doesn't want riches, doesn't want women, doesn't want men! Doesn't want revenge, doesn't want power," the king was raving. He turned back to Merlin, "How did it feel, boy? All those years as a lowly servant, treated like garbage, all the while knowing you could crush Arthur's throat with a thought? How did it feel, to be chucked away like refuse? Don't you want to make Arthur pay? Don't you want him to kneel before you? Don't you want him to fear your power?"
"Never." Whip, moan, gasp.
Five more lashes, and with each one Gwaine twitched. Arthur turned to look at him, and saw that while the knight winced with each strike of the whip upon his friend's back, he refused to look away from the horror below. Finally it ended, and Arthur saw Merlin had doubled over in pain, barely supported by his knees and elbows.
"Bring the girl," said Cenred, and for the first time, Merlin looked up. Gwaine had to be restrained once more as Merlin's face was revealed, half of it covered completely in blood that had poured from a thick gash along his forehead and from another just under his left eye. His lip was split, both eyes were black, and his cheeks were so gaunt that he looked like death itself.
Everyone watched as a child was led by the hand into the court. A little Druid girl, by the look of her, no more than five years of age. A guard pulled her along and stood her in front of the king, facing Merlin.
Cenred looked at Merlin, "Just one little thing, that is all I ask of you today," he said, once more, walking forward to place his hands upon the child's shoulders. "Just a small display of magic, we can work on more later. Just one little thing, and I promise, there will be no more pain." Then he pulled a dagger from his belt, and held it against the little girl's throat. She froze, her wide and terrified eyes on Merlin, but she didn't cry out. "Just one little thing," said Cenred, "and I'll let the child live."
The air was thick with tension. Arthur realized he had been holding his breath. Below him nobody dared move. The child finally gave a meek sob.
Merlin bowed his head and Arthur knew that Cenred had won. The king smiled wickedly and relinquished the child to her guard and handed him the dagger, then he strode back to Merlin. As he did so he motioned for twelve other men to surround the captive. He was being cautious, but Arthur thought that Cenred had no idea what he was about to unleash.
A key was drawn from Cenred's pocket, and he unlocked the manacles at Merlin's wrists. He then looked Merlin in the eyes, and directed his attention to where the little girl stood in the grip of her guard, the dagger pressed to her throat. "Just one little thing," Cenred said slowly, before cautiously unlocking the collar around Merlin's neck. He passed the collar to the guard who stood directly behind Merlin, and the man held it ready to clasp tight again at a moment's notice.
Arthur didn't know what he expected. A flash of light, perhaps? A wall of fire? Or for every man in the room to be hurled backwards by an invisible force, and crumple to the ground dead? He didn't know what he expected, but he did not expect Merlin to remain perfectly still, on his knees, his head bowed. Time stood still.
And then Cenred's queen gave an astonished giggle of delight as an orb of blue light appeared in the air just above them. Everyone in the court looked up, causing Arthur and the knights to crouch in a panic behind the wall before realizing that they were too well hidden in the shadows to be seen by anyone below.
They peered cautiously down at the court again as the blue light hovered; it's surface flickering and dancing. "At last!" cried Cenred victoriously.
"It's beautiful!" Admired the queen happily. And she grinned up at it for several moments, clapping her hands and giggling with glee until it disappeared. She looked back at Cenred and scowled as she saw him replacing the collar and manacles, Merlin all the while remained unmoving and completely silent. Then Cenred brought another cup of water before Merlin, "Your reward," he said, pouring the liquid into his prisoner's mouth. Merlin drank, but Arthur could see that his eyes were shut tight. "Back to the tower," said Cenred to his guards, "And give the boy a blanket tonight, he's earned it."
Arthur, Leon, Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine had followed Merlin as he was half dragged, half carried to the tower prison. The tight, winding stone staircase that led up to the cell was narrow, and Arthur could see that a dozen guards were assigned to hold the stairs, in case Merlin somehow escaped. With the enchanted manacles and chains inhibiting his magic, though, Arthur knew that escaping alone and unaided would be impossible.
He seethed as he made his way up the stairs, unable to stop the scene he had just witnessed from replaying in his head. With each step up the tower Arthur saw the whip land on the already mutilated skin of Merlin's back. He thrust his sword into the gut of the first guard he met, and as the man's blood gushed over his hand he saw once more the blood streaming down Merlin's face. The body tumbled down the stairs, nearly tripping up the knights, but Arthur pressed forward relentlesly, dispatching one guard after another with silent and brutal precision, leaving not a single man for the knights who followed in his violent wake.
When he reached the door of the cell at the top of the tower, after having cut down the final guard and taking his keys, Arthur didn't hesitate. He couldn't afford to. If he hesitated he wasn't sure that he could go through with this. He was too conflicted to think of anything but removing Merlin from this citadel.
The sun had set, and when Arthur peered into the cell he could barely see a thing. Despite it being a tower cell, there was no window, and the shadows were deep. From behind him Elyan stepped forward, bearing a torch, and Arthur finally saw Merlin, huddled against the cold wall of his prison beneath a threadbare blanket, looking at him in shock.
"…Arth…ur?"
"There's no time," Arthur said, rushing forward, Gwaine pushing his way in and following on his heels. "We have to get these chains off!" Arthur pulled Merlin's hands towards him, a little roughly in his haste, and felt a pang of guilt when Merlin cried out in pain. Gwaine already held his sword aloft, "Hold still, Merlin!" said Arthur, taking a step back, "Gwaine, now!"
Gwaine's sword came down with a crash, but it merely glanced off the metal, sparks flying up where it had struck, and the knight roared violently in frustration.
"They're enchanted, Arthur!" said Leon urgently, "Our swords won't work. Let's just get him out of here!"
"Arth…ur…" Merlin began again, but he gasped as he was hauled to his feet, unable to speak for the pain.
They stumbled down the steps, Leon and Elyan in the far lead to make sure their path was clear, Percival immediately in front of Arthur and Merlin, ready to catch them should they fall, and Gwaine taking up the rear, looking like he could barely suppress the manic rage within him.
Down, down, down the stairs. "Arth…ur…" Merlin would occasionally gasp, but Arthur ignored him. He refused to respond. He refused to think. If he thought he would have to think about what the hell he was going to do with Merlin when he got him back to Camelot. No. Down. Down the stairs, and away through the filthy tunnels through which they had sneaked into this godforsaken place. That was all Arthur could think now.
They wended their way silently through the corridors, Arthur half carrying Merlin, moving mechanically and refusing to think about what he was doing, about what he had done.
Then chaos erupted before him.
Men yelled. Metal clashed. Arthur held onto Merlin with his left hand and swung his sword with his right.
Where were they now? He had just been following Leon and Elyan. It wasn't like Arthur to become so distracted on a mission like this! When had he stopped paying attention? How could he have let himself become so disoriented?
They fought with all their might, but Arthur and his knights were being forced down the corridor by a throng of men who vastly outnumbered them, pressing them back, through a doorway, and finally out into a large open room with crumbling walls that Arthur recognized. He also recognized the gasp of Cenred's queen, though this time she gasped in surprise rather than delight.
Arthur found himself backed into the center of the half ruined court, Merlin still hanging at his side, his knights forming a protective circle around the pair as Cenred's men eased off, but continued to eye them viciously.
"What a surprise," said Cenred, with pure, wicked joy in his voice, "Now, this! This I really didn't expect!"
Arthur gently lowered Merlin to the floor, took a deep breath of the fresh night air, and stood to face Cenred. Excalibur seemed to vibrate once more in his hand as if it ached for the cruel man's blood as much as Arthur did. He stared at his rival king with fury and hate, he wanted to brutalize the villain, he wanted to destroy him slowly in front of his despicable queen.
But Arthur wasn't even given the chance to speak. "Kill them," said Cenred, " Then put the boy back in his cell." And Cenred's men were upon them.