A/N: I'm terrible I know. BUT i couldn't get this out of my head! Please please PLEASE comment and tell me what you think :) I will of course continue this, as soon as my other stories (Merlin & His Queen as well as MR&TDOA) is finished
The King's Familiar
How was it that things went from horribly wrong to outright devastating so quickly in Merlin's life? This morning, the King had woken Merlin before the crack dawn informing him they had a mission to set out on immediately. Merlin, ever the obedient manservant had simply turned back over, wrenching the covers over his head, muttering darkly under his breath about the various places the good King could shove it. That of course resulted in Merlin being unceremoniously yanked out of bed and out to the stables.
It was a chilly morning, the frost nipping right at the heels of sunrise, cold and fresh. Winter was just around the corner, and Merlin knew in the villages in the northern parts of Camelot were probably already knee deep in snow. All the knights had been waiting already, sat atop their horses, sniggering as Arthur came into view, dragging the difficult manservant with him. They were completely engrossed in their own world, bickering for all the world like a married couple.
"You could have just, you know, woken me up normally."
"You're forgetting that I did, and you muttered some rather treasonous things in your sleep. We could continue on this topic, Merlin, if you fancy spending the night in the dungeons? Or better yet a morning in the stocks?" Merlin went completely courteous in a matter of moments.
"Of course not, sire, I'll be quite happy to sit my arse on a horse at the crack of dawn off to who-knows-where and quite possibly ride off into the sunrise, and into my dreadful demise."
"For once in your difficult life, do as you're told, Merlin."
The dramatics aside, they were off, the horses galloping into the forest as the sun broke over the horizon, painting the Kingdom in brilliant hues of liquid gold and topaz.
It was only about 4 hours into the ride that Merlin gleaned the true purpose of their excursion, in a conversation with Lancelot and Percival.
"What do you mean we're looking for a witch? I thought we were going after Morgana and Morgause?" Merlin rode up to Lancelot, wincing on a particularly enthusiastic gallop atop the horse he was riding. If the other Knight had seen the look, he chose to ignore it, saving what he could of Merlin's already bruised pride, having been the target of Gwaine and Arthur's teasing over his sore bottom though the servant hadn't said anything of that nature yet.
"Last night, we had company, a group of soldiers we'd sent out weeks ago to make the rounds of the outlying villages and discern their needs. There had been 8 men in the company, only one returned."
"One?" Merlin was aware of this group, it had been comprised of generally the newer recruits of the Knighthood. It should have been a simple, if somewhat tedious task. "Who?"
"Galahad, but he was badly injured. He managed to tell us that they had run into some kind of witch, a woman named Circe and that she'd done terrible things to them. Then he passed out. Arthur woke us all up and said we were going to look for this woman." That was Percival, looking the closest the warlock had ever seen him to angry.
"Just like that?" Merlin asked, aghast. Had the clot-pole any idea of where to even look? Aimlessly wandering around the forest wasn't going to help them.
"Merlin!" Arthur's sharp call from the front of the patrol made him jump before he nodded to the other Knights and rode up next to his King.
"You realize we're going to have to narrow down our search or we're just going to be going in circles right?"
Arthur's lips were pressed tight together in a thin line, the expression indicative of his thoughts, and mirroring his tense position atop the horse.
"I know and we have. Galahad managed to tell us where they were ambushed when the witch attacked." Almost imperceptibly, his knuckles tightened on the reins of his horse. Merlin cocked his head, flicking his eyes back forth from the Kings iron grip to his tense face. It didn't take much to conclude that something about this was keeping him on edge.
"What is it?" Merlin said quietly, lowering his voice so that their conversation didn't travel back to the Knights riding behind them. Arthur's eyes slid away from the path ahead to lock with his for the first since Merlin had come to his side, the surprise visible in his face.
"What?"
"Something about this is making you jumpier than Elyan around Gwen after he's messed up again." Arthur's mouth quirked upward slightly at the comparison, before he flexed his fingers, releasing them from their firm grip with a sigh.
"I'm not sure." He admitted, returning his eyes to the forest around them as they advanced. Behind the Knights were murmuring amongst themselves, also grim faced. Galahad's condition seemed to have struck a chord within them and they appeared to be itching for retribution.
"When Galahad came in last night, he was shredded. I don't use the word as a metaphor, the man's flesh was reduced to ribbons. It was as if some kind of beast had mauled him, not even trying to kill him, but attacking him because he could. The fact that he's alive is a testament to his character. He fought to come back here, to tell us what happened."
"What did happen?" Merlin asked gently, wondering how he'd managed to sleep through this man's arrival and why Gaius hadn't woken him up immediately. As if he's read Merlin's mind, Arthur spoke again.
"Gaius didn't wake you up because he didn't have time and he knew I would need you rested to come out with us in the morning. He was my physician before you came to Camelot, Merlin, he can handle himself far better than any man I've seen." He seemed to remember Merlin's earlier question then, and dug his heels into the horse's flanks, urging him to go faster.
"He wasn't completely coherent, but what I could under stand was that during their patrol, they heard of a disturbance in the mountains beyond the villages, where it was often said that men would go out to hunt game and just fail to return home. No evidence of animal predation or an accident. Just gone. " The hard line to the King's mouth had returned while Merlin grimaced, imagining how this conversation must have gone. Galahad was young, just turned 17. Barely a man and yet Arthur had sent him out on a mission and he probably believed the state of the man was somehow something he was responsible for. It was completely erroneous, but it was what he believed.
"Yes, but what did he say happened to the others and himself?" Merlin asked again, Arthur's tendency to ramble when feeling responsible for a situation was rearing its head again. He realized it as well, and shook it off, continuing.
"According to Galahad, they had stopped for the night, and he'd just taken the first watch of the night when there was shuffling in the trees. At first he thought it was just deer's or something of that nature, but then - and these are his words, not mine – there were 'red glowing eyes' all around them, snarling and growling. That's all he remembers, until his next memory which is climbing out from under bushes at the base of the mountain, and hitching a ride with some merchants to Camelot. He says it was some kind of witch. That was all he could say before he fainted. "
They fell into silence again, the early morning frost making the grass underfoot crisp and filling their ears with the sound of the leaves snapping as the horses stepped on it.
"So where did he say this mountain was?"
"Just a half hour's ride from Ealdor."
. . . . . .
The ride was relatively silent after that. Merlin wasn't sure how to feel with the knowledge that there was some kind of malevolent witch running amok so near to his hometown, where his mother still lived. One that was clearly preying on the people there.
He hadn't been back since Will died, and felt guilty that he was going back only now, for the sole purpose of catching a sorceress. He hadn't seen or spoken to his mother since then. Not even attaching a note when he sent ¾ of his pay to her, even though he knew she lived a hard life, having to deal with reputation that she garnered, raising a bastard child on her own.
The guilt threatened to drown him sometimes, especially when he thought about the fact that he had yet to tell her of his Father's death, despite knowing that she loved him dearly. These thoughts rattled in his mind constantly and that wasn't even including the fears she had about his magic being revealed whilst living in the Castle. It was a never ending source of worry for her.
"Merlin."
He looked up, seeing Lancelot and Gwaine come riding up beside him. He looked at them both, back and forth.
"Cold isn't it?" Merlin said pulling his kerchief over his nose to keep it warm, he hunched his shoulders. He wasn't wrong, the farther they rode, the colder it got. Where there had only been frost and a thin layer of ice earlier, there was now a respectable amount of snow on the ground. The trees were dusted thoroughly in it, the fresh snow crunching underfoot deafeningly loud in the quiet of their surroundings. Gwaine rolled his eyes.
"It's getting a bit old, mate, you can't avoid talking to us by changing the subject all the time." Merlin stared at the long haired Knight in surprise, for all his posturing, the man was gifted with keen skills of observation which weren't normally the talent you would have pegged someone like Gwaine for.
"Who says I'm changing the subject?" The warlock couldn't help the defensive tone that seeped into his voice, Lancelot snorted, yanking on the reins in his hands just a little to keep his stallion from breaking away from the group.
"You are, right now, by saying it." Lancelot gestured with his hands for Merlin to speak.
"Come on, out with it. This whole thing has you more on edge than all the rest of us, and we're the ones who're supposed to go into combat." Gwaine entirely missed the glance that Lancelot gave the sorcerer, knowing full well, that if they were truly hunting a Witch, it was going to be Merlin that did the fighting. The rest of them would find themselves conveniently knocked out or fighting someone useless in an off path location.
It annoyed him that he couldn't do anything to lift the burden from Merlin's shoulder's but he also knew that any attempts to do as such would only slow the warlock down, a physical fight stood no chance in the middle of a magical battle. So as they rode for hours, Lancelot resigned himself to helping Merlin in the only way he knew how.
He talked to the man, took his mind off the witch by engaging in conversation, even drawing Arthur out of his pensive shell by goading Gwaine to start telling some of his more vulgar tavern tales.
After about an hour of hearing the entire company roar in laughter, Lancelot was beginning to regret it, he heard more than enough of Gwaine's escapes, enough to last him a lifetime. It was past sunset when Gwaine tired of talking, leaving the clearing where they'd set up camp, in the snowy forest, to go and catch something to double as a meal, while Merlin set up a fire to cook their food over.
They'd managed to pass Ealdor, though everyone had caught how restless Merlin was as they rode by the village from a far, the vantage point high enough that the boy was able to catch a glimpse of his mother as she went about her daily routine, which unfortunately included being jeered at by the majority of the villagers while she passed, to get to the well for fresh water.
No one missed the way Merlin's hands fisted on his reins or the way his eyes hardened, before he roughly yanked on the horse to take the opposite side of the company in an effort to cut himself off from the sight. Arthur resolved then and there that they would pay the village a visit upon their return, see if they couldn't do anything about his mother's situation, maybe even move her to Camelot. Merlin had been resistant to the idea before, but seeing her life now, he thought that the manservant might just be persuaded to change his mind.
"Ah –HA!" Gwaine triumphant yell echoed through the camp as the others lay down their bedrolls. Elyan and Leon exchanged wry grins as the long haired man came barreling into the clearing hauling the carcasses of two rabbits and a baby deer on a stick. Percival appeared behind him, looking disgruntled as the Knight crowed to the others about how easy it had been to bag their dinner.
"Just one shot, eh Percival? Clean through the head. Andthree of them. What, pray tell, did you catch, you great beast you?" When Percival rolled his eyes at the man, Gwaine waggled his eyebrows at Merlin who sat near the fire, cutting bread.
"Nothing. The brute is massive Merlin and yet I still caught – OUCH!" Gwaine yelped, rubbing his head where the taller man had struck him with the carcass of another rabbit. He held the kill out to him, his usually peaceful face smug.
"Sorry, I was just trying to give you the only thing I caught. Must've hit you by accident." Gwaine narrowed his eyes, swiping the rabbit after a moment, not oblivious to the smothered snickers from the others as they tried to look busy doing something else.
"Giant ignoramus." He muttered as he handed Merlin the carcasses.
"What was that?" Percival asked blithely as Gwaine straightened.
"Nothing." Percival shrugged and pulled out his sword.
"Care for some practice? Or would you rather rest after hunting?"
In the rapidly darkening night, Gwaine's teeth gleamed brilliantly as he unsheathed his own sword.
"Why Sir Percival, I thought you'd never ask."
. . . . . . . .
By the time they finished eating, the tension had come back into their bodies. Leon was taking the first watch as the other settled in to try and rest, but it was clear they were on edge in the forest. There was no evidence found on their ride up of any kind of witch craft, but that had long before been known that a witch in these parts wouldn't just leave herself open to attack. Not in Arthur's kingdom.
Merlin chose to place his bedroll a suitable distance from the King's tent, close enough to see the shadow of Arthur as he settled into the blankets, but far enough that he wasn't in earshot if he whispered. To his left, Lancelot had already gone to sleep, the traveler in him trained to earn sleep wherever he could, for fear there wouldn't be a chance to later.
It took time, there in the forest, in the dead of night, with the forest silent and the fire crackling and popping, the only noise to accompany them, to fall asleep. Merlin spent the first hour of lying down, trying to stop jumping at every snap of the wood burning and to avoid analyzing the shadows that the flickering flames caused.
But soon, even his slowly drowsy state, Merlin felt the pull of sleep, his eyelids feeling heavy and resisted, his body feeling the unnaturalness of the slumber that threatened to overtake. With effort, he rolled over, fighting the urge to succumb and tried to pull himself towards Arthur's tent, seeing with a dull spike of fear, the gargantuan figure that hovered over his King's tent, tearing it apart with his bare hands.
"Ar...thur..." Merlin was half out of his bedroll, crawling towards him when he felt the end of a cane strike the middle of his back. His back spasmed once, and he could only watch, at the mercy of his own body, as the man grabbed Arthur's struggling form by the throat and threw him against the tree next to his tent. He dimly heard Arthur grunt in pain as he collapsed just out of arms reach, groaning and turning over in an effort to get up.
Merlin tried to speak, the only thing escaping being a garbled call which succesfully caught Arthur's attention. He took in Merlin's prone form, and glanced around the camp, where Merlin was sure he would see his unconscious Knights. From where he was lying, Merlin could see that whatever had affected them was now starting to cling to Arthur as well, the King's eyes were drooping despite his best efforts. The crunching in the snow to the left of Merlin's view alerted him to the fact that their attacker was now standing over him.
Arthur could see this as well, as some semblance of alertness came back into his eyes, the emotion in them could only be described as apprehension and he quickly outstretched a hand to Merlin, trying to reach the manservant's own outstretched hand, his fingers close but only barely brushing the very tips of the man's fingers. A sharp pain pierced through Merlin's side and he dully registered the fact that he had been kicked but the information barely mattered. He gasped in pain and looked up at his king, eyes meeting until the darkness surged forward with an ease that Merlin would have found frightening if he had the time to spare in thinking about it.
. . . . . . . .
"Merlin."
"Merlin. Merlin."
"For god's sake, Merlin, wake up!"
The first thing Merlin was aware of as he slowly regained consciousness, was the bone chilling frigidness of where they were. It seeped into him, freezing him from the inside out, he breathed out and found that he didn't need to open his eyes to know that wherever they were was damp and cold, some kind of underground dungeon then. He then became aware of his hands, bearing a dull ache from the cold, spasming where they touched the floor, bound in iron manacles around his wrists.
He slowly blinked his eyes open and found himself in a cell, seeing the front of it first, since he seemed to be propped up against the back wall. An experimental tug on his extremities told him that his ankles had been bound as well.
"Merlin."Feeling disoriented, Merlin blearily looked to his left, finding himself looking at all of the other Knight's and Arthur gazing at him through bars. He looked back into his own cell, at the slate gray stone that was covered in a thin sheet of ice, the temperature of it feeling like a fire of its own. "The way you're carrying on, you'd think you were the one who took a beating, not me." Arthur's voice was snide, but carried a hint of relief in it.
"Shut up, Princess, Merlin, mate, are you alright?" That was Gwaine, Merlin was sure, for some reason, his mind was taking some time to come out of the heavy fog it was in.
" Mm.. Why am I in my own cell?" His tongue felt heavy and dry as cotton. "Better yet, where are we?" He looked around, seeing the concerned looks on the faces of the others. The room they were being held in was round and dingy. It seemed to be made of stone, and cracks in the walls let in frigid air, there were torches on the walls emitting the weakest flames that barely illuminated the room. He could see that he had been put in a cell separate from the others, though to what end, Merlin wasn't sure.
The doors to their cells were heavily padlocked, and beyond it, in the sparse room, lay a stone bench, long enough to accommodate a man lying down. The bench was parallel to the cells, and one end, past Merlin's cell, pointed towards a door, through the cracks of which, they could tell was the exterior of the building in which they were being held, he could see the vast plains of snow outside, leading him to believe they had been carried up the mountain they were camping on.
"Oh my. Our guests are awake, and I haven't greeted them yet. Do pardon my manner's gentlemen." A sing song voice signaled the arrival of another person and Merlin saw all the Knights tense, hands instinctively going to their belts for their weapons, only to come up empty. The voice tutted at them.
"Oh I'm sorry. I took the liberty of having you relieved of your luggage, what with it being so burdensome and all." Merlin and the others suddenly saw a rack near the door, where their weapons were hung in a sack. The voice seemed to be getting closer, which meant, in Merlin's hazy mind, that the sorceress was going to reveal herself. He scrambled to his feet, willing the confusion away. He couldn't afford to be addled in the head when there was a powerful witch nearby, especially one that seemed to know their identities.
Whatever Merlin had been expecting, whoever he had thought would round the corner and enter the room, he wasn't prepared for the large, and stocky woman who appeared. She was tall, no taller than Percival, but still, that made up for a rather large woman, with long ice hair, so blonde it was white. She wore clothes of almost blood rouge, the tint of it bringing out the paleness of her own skin in violent relief.
Merlin watched her slink into the room, her movements measured and designed to threaten.
"What do you want?" Arthur kept his own voice calm. Years of fighting and being kept hostage numerous times made it so Arthur wasn't particularly worried. Merlin could hear the ease in his voice. No doubt already planning ways in which to overpower her and escape.
"Manners, Arthur Pendragon. Did your brute of a father teach you none?" Arthur's nostril's flared at the mention of the late King but refrained from responding to the baiting. He waited silently. Soon, the woman tired of the quiet and pouted, seemingly let down by Arthur's determination to keep a level head.
"Goodness, you're no fun. Then again, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree does it? Uther was no fun either." She snapped her fingers and the torches flared brighter, bathing the room in the warm glow, doing nothing for the actual temperature. She took in their appearance and sighed, her eyes flitting from Arthur's cell to Merlin's.
"Picus, darling. I told you to bring them to me. I didn't tell you to use the servant as target practice." Arthur looked at Merlin, seeing him for the first time in proper light and caught sight of Merlin's torso, exposed by his shirt which had ridden up in Merlin's haste to stand. On his left side, a great blooming purple bruise was beginning to shape up, He heard Leon let out a hiss of sympathy. A lumbering noise came from around the corner from which the witch had first appeared and Arthur recognized the large man as his assailant from before.
He was a tall, hulking man, his chest wide and shoulders steady. His hair was dark, a brown maybe, though the flickering lights made it difficult to know for sure. He wore black trousers and a white tunic, stained red near the neck and wrists, fresh red instead of dull brown. Merlin could tell it was blood, having washed similar stains out of Arthur's clothing just after battles. On his exposed chest, visible in the deep V of his neckline, was an embedded turquoise blue gem, unattached to any kind of string or chain. It was simply a part of him and whenever the woman spoke to him, it flickered, leading Merlin to suspect that it was connected to her, though the 'how' still eluded him.
"Apologies, Lady Circe, they...did not come quietly." Merlin swore he saw the woman smile at the statement.
"Well, no harm done I suppose." Circe pulled out a chair from a dark corner of the room, placing it in front of Arthur's cell, ignoring the stony expressions of the Knight's within and focusing on the King. She sat, crossing her legs, revealing the full expanse of the pale appendage and looked expectantly at the Arthur, as if she expected him to respond somehow to her display. When he didn't, her mouth curled into a self satisfied smirk and she pulled a wooden scepter out of her sleeve.
"Well, Arthur, you did ask what I wanted, so I suppose I shall tell you. I wondered why it was taking you so long, after all, I've been bagging the little darlings in the area for two months now. I thought maybe I'd chosen the wrong place, but then, your little patrol party came traipsing along, so naive, so innocent and I thought, well, I couldn't just let them leave without saying hello." The man behind her, Picus, handed her something, and Merlin felt, rather than saw the bristling amongst the men at the sight of the tattered piece of Camelot cloak in her hand, a small piece, from the section emblazoned with Camelot insignia.
Her tongue flicked out in a pointed tip to lap at the dried blood crusted on one edge. Her expression melted into one of bliss.
"Of course, there was the added bonus of having so many little birdies to play with. So I let one go. Just one mind you. Picus here does get ever so lonely up here." Her eyes took on a wicked gleam. "And hungry."
Merlin swallowed at the revolting imagery his mind was supplying him. Another gale of wind blew through their prison, and Merlin was unable to suppress the shivers that wracked through him. Circe handed the piece of cloak back to Picus, who seemed to gaze at it with reverence and a hint of something Merlin might have called sorrow if he had been paying more attention.
"What I want, Arthur Pendragon, is something only youcan give me." Arthur stood, in the middle of the cell, the Knights gathered around him protectively. Merlin himself arranged himself in the middle of his cell, fingers flexing under stress. His magic was there, crackling at the tips of his fingers, but Merlin was reluctant to use it unless there was no other way, and outing himself as a sorcerer in this situation was only likely to have him strung up on accusations of working with her, considering she had set up camp near his own home village. The warlock hadn't had the most practice and he wasn't sure he could do what he meant to do, so his only option was surprising their captors when they least suspected it.
"I want Excalibur."
There was a moment of silence after the woman's words. The notion so absurd to Arthur that he couldn't fathom what he was hearing. The way Leon shifted next to him made the King realize that the Knights didn't quite understand what the witch was talking about. Merlin made an effort to keep his face blank. It wasn't like he could tell them that the Lady of the Lake had it. That would lead to far too many questions. Questions he couldn't – wouldn't – answer.
"Excalibur? You want my sword?" Arthur scoffed, an action his interrogator did not like at all, as evidenced by the way her genial expression hardened minutely in the face of Arthur's scorn. The knights glanced at each other, unsure of why a witch would want a sword, especially when she could charm any sword of her choosing and still best them.
"You speak as if you had a choice, Sire." The word dripped with ill concealed sarcasm, though Merlin wasn't sure there was any attempt to conceal it at all. The manacles were chafing on his wrists due to his fidgeting, an unconscious tic, as he observed Picus standing stationary, eyes curiously vacant behind his mistress. Arthur shrugged his shoulders, his hands bound in front of him.
Gwaine sat down now that the objective of their imprisonment was clear, he knew they would be in here for a while. Most of these creeps that captured them in order to leverage information out of them tried to get them to reveal it by letting them stew in the cell or whatever rank hole they were kept in. He shot a look to Elyan who followed his lead and tugged Percival down, urging Leon and Lancelot to do the same.
"Well, you're out of luck. The sword disappeared, and I have literally no idea where it could be." There was a beat of silence at the nonchalant response from Arthur, who looked behind him to see his Knights sitting comfortably on the floor. Merlin had to refrain from rolling his eyes at the grin on the King's face as he settled down as well, his back propped up against the side of his cell that shared its wall with Merlin's cell. He knew very well Excalibur was, and had an inkling of what she might want with it, all the more reason of course, to withhold that information from the woman.
"You can keep us here for as long as you want, but I won't be telling you anything, lady." It was then that Merlin realized that perhaps egging on a woman who was responsible for the deaths of at least 2 dozen people was someone they probably shouldn't have taken lightly. She stiffened in her chair, sweeping her eyes over their company, from Elyan's lazing on the floor, to Leon's rigid cross legged seat on the floor to Lancelot, Percival and Gwaine looking entirely too at ease for people who should have been terrified to be at the mercy of a witch of her caliber.
She decided that she had been wholly too lax in her approach, that her hostages were making fools of her. Her face went blank. Well, they would soon fix that wouldn't they? By the time she was done with them, even insanity wouldn't save them from the fear she would inflict upon them. Not until they fell into death's sweet embrace would they escape her grasp and even then, she would be using her own kiss of death to send them to their ends, after all, no one ever said dying would be easy. What a ludicrous idea.
But first, the best fear was to use leverage, and here, she had only one source. The one person the King was desperately trying to protect by distracting her with his glib talk.
"Then it appears we are at a standstill, Your Highness." Arthur opened his bound hands in a gesture of unapologetic helplessness in response. Circe sighed and stood from her seat, fanning a hand out in an elegant gesture, calling Picus to her. She hooked a hand in the threadbare collar of his tunic and pulled him to her, whispering in his ear, curling her tongue around her words.
"Picus, you know what to do. Go get him." Merlin watched apprehensively as the mammoth man approached his cell to the growing concern of the men in the other cell. He instinctively shrunk back, pressing up against the back wall while Picus deftly unlocked his cell and strode in, his silhouette ominous and towering over Merlin, undoing the chains from the wall but leaving the manacles cuffed to his feet and wrists. Behind the shadow of the hulking giant's body, Merlin heard Circe speak again, talking to the King.
"Arthur, you ought to know what happens when you don't give me what I want. Whatever happens from here on out, it's on you. I gave you a chance to save him. I did warn you." Oh that did not sound good, Merlin thought with trepidation, trying his very best to not appear as scared as he was.
"Hello." Merlin offered weakly, his eyes darting over the man's frame and to the worried expressions on Leon's face at the back of the group in the next cell. Picus afforded him no response, only pausing minutely to peer at Merlin's frightened face, a small flicker of something like contrition passing over his expression, a sight Merlin wouldn't have believed if it weren't for the fact that he'd seen it himself.
All to quickly however, the moment passed and Picus grabbed the chains like a leash and yanked at them to make Merlin follow him out of the cell, stumbling to shuffle fast on his bound feet.
"Wait, wait!" Lancelot reached out through the iron bars of the cell with his tied hands, managing to fist them in Picus's shirt, halting his progress past them. Instinctively, Picus wrenched himself out of his hold, his eyes flashing a white gold and his mouth pulled back involuntarily in a snarl. Arthur let out a hoarse yelp, while the man's face seemed to melt into the form of a wolf covered in white fur, before flashing back to that of his own, shame marring his eyes before they hardened again. Lancelot's eyes had gone wide while Merlin's own mirrored him.
"What are you?" Elyan breathed out, the danger they were in suddenly seemed so much more charged with a different kind of threat. Their entire company had never encountered anything of this nature before.
"Tut – tut boys. I don't think you're in the position to be asking questions. Picus!" She said sharply, returning her attention to her henchman. "Don't dawdle. You remember what happened last time you dawdled don't you?" Merlin swore he saw a flash of pure hatred ghost over the henchman's face, then smooth, as he pulled the chain taut and sent Merlin stumbling toward him.
"But, I shall be kind and explain to you what Picus is. After all, his shall be the face you see last in your pitiful lives. It's an affliction of my own design you see. I call it,werewulf, or man-wolf. My lovely Picus here, can turn into a wolf at my bidding." Circe ran a hand affectionately down the werewolf's back, relishing in his stoic non-response to her touch.
Merlin was now standing next to the stone bench in front of the cells met Arthur's eyes, seeing the worry in his own eyes reflected in his King. All the knights were stood flush against the iron bars, every man trying to deduce a method of escape, their expressions growing dimmer as the possibilities shrunk with every passing second. He tried to smile, to indicate that whatever Circe was going to dish out, he could take. Of that he was fairly certain. Indeed, he was a sorcerer and apparently a powerful one at that. He could handle a low level witch couldn't he? If he could drive Morgana, Morgause and Nimueh away from the castle on numerous occasions, Circe would be no problem.
Right?
Next thing he knew, he was being pushed down on the stone bench roughly and all coherent thought flew from his mind, only to be gripped by a paralyzing fear. Above him he could only see the stony expanse of the ceiling, doming over them and the looming face of Circe smiling wickedly, Picus next to her, hefting an enormous pail of water and a thick wooly rag.
They set the pail down next to him and Picus dunked in the rag, drenching it and suddenly, Merlin could the dawning realization in Gwaine's eyes, Merlin's confidence faltering before them.
They were going to waterboard him.
"No!" The cry was a lance of fear straight in the sorcerer's heart, his inkling confirmed. Gwaine rattled the cell violently, panic distorting his face. "No! Leave him alone! He's just a servant, he doesn't have any information, he can't tell you anything!"
If only that were true. Merlin's mind supplied dryly amidst his mounting hysteria, fueled by Gwaine's horror stricken voice. Picus stiffly set a restraint around Merlin's head, made of metal, anchoring his head in one position, and making it so that he was now only able to hear the voices of Arthur and the others.
"Well, this is a trip down memory lane. Almost like being back in the stocks, isn't it, Arthur?" Merlin's dry attempt at humor fell flat in the face of his own fright, and Arthur ignored him in favor of trying to appeal to Circe's common sense, or at least try to divert her attention to avoid the waterboarding for as long as he could.
"Merlin, oh my god, wait – just – just wait, Circe, that's your name right? I've told you all I know, I swear."
Circe took the rag delicately from her henchman's gasp and wrung it once, the water running down her arms in rivulets, staining her dress darker.
"Oh my darling prisoners, you seem to think there's only one way to glean the truth," she set the rag over Merlin, smoothing it down to mirror every dip and curve of his face. Leon flinched seeing the outline of Merlin's mouth gape against the fabric, already gasping for breath under the water doused scrap of cloth.
"When in fact, there are many." Circe picked up a large bowl, and scooped up water, pouring it slowly over Merlin's head, concentrating where his mouth and nose were.
"NO!" Circe grinned, licking her lips, concentrating on the peak of Merlin's nose under the rag, delighting in his strangled breathing, feeling like she could see the stuttering of the boy's heart under the stress of the torture.
It was so delicious she thought she might faint.
Merlin's entire world was suddenly reduced to the feeling of the water suffocating him, feeling the acute burn in his lungs as water invaded them and the dull yells of his friends faded into the background, white noise in a world where pain was the only color and the only thing that he could see.
His mind hazily screamed at him to use his magic, to blast the witch into dust, to fight back, but Merlin's emotions were in full control, the panic and the absoluteterror of the sensation of drowning incapacitating him.
"Merlin! Merlin! Oh my god! Arthur, that bitch is killing him!"
"Circe, stop it! I told you the truth! I don't know where it is! Let him go, please, he's just a manservant!" Arthur yelled out, over Merlin's frightening gurgling and ineffectual thrashing under the onslaught of water. Percival was throwing himself against the cell lock, trying to use sheer body weight to jar the construction, Elyan was using his knowledge as blacksmith to discern the weakest point in his manacles and break out, but to no avail.
Circe didn't stop in her minstrations, reaching down only to refill her bowl and pour more water on to Merlin's face, the coughing from below doing nothing to assuage the damage the water was already doing to Merlin's lungs and nose.
"I warned you, Arthur. I told you what I wanted. If you're going to choose a sword over the life of your servant, then that's the choice you've made. If the boy dies, you'll have none but yourself to blame."
Arthur screamed in fury as Merlin's body wrenched from side to side, attempting to evade the torture. Picus stood behind his mistress, eyes vacant, though the wetness in his eyes belied him.
Soon their prison was echoing with the wails of its inhabitants, the Knights and Arthur bellowing for Merlin, knowing it was useless, that their screams weren't even reaching him, as his mind recoiled within itself to escape the reality in which it lived, a last bastion of defense for a battered psyche.
"Arthur, for god's sake! Just tell her what she wants to know!" Gwaine yelled, wrists raw from where he was wiggling to try to break out of them.
"I'm telling you I don't know! Merlin said the thing just disappeared! I just used the damn thing once! I haven't seen it since!" Gwaine let out a cry of frustration as Merlin's gargled gasping grew more frantic and his legs thrashed harder.
Under this admission, Arthur saw something snap in Circe's eyes. She stopped suddenly, ceasing in her torture of his manservant, whipping the rag off his face. Merlin's soaking wet face was pale white, the skin around his nose and mouth a dangerous blue. He gasped, drinking in the air hungrily, sucking it in, the breath's sounding like a death rattle.
"Merlin? Merlin, mate, talk to me. Are you alright?"
Merlin didn't answer, the wet coughs that wracked his body proving too much to bear and ensuring that Merlin was well beyond his ability to function apart from his body's desire to preserve itself.
"Hm. It seems that this isn't having the intended effect." Circe stood over Merlin's heaving body, thinking contemplatively.
"I will have you drawn and quartered, you abomination." The King snarled, fury covering every inch of his taut face, the hysteria of Merlin's near death simmering just under the surface of the anger. Circe was unmoved, staring at him, and then at Merlin, in intervals.
"Then I suppose I should take of this before you get the chance, hm?" She said cheekily, reaching a manicured hand up to grab Picus by the scruff of his neck and shoving him down onto his knees, like a disobedient hunting dog. She shook him roughly, and barked an order at him. It reverberated through the dungeon that they were ensconced in.
"Change." She didn't need to say anymore to him, as the turquoise gem embedded in his chest started to glow and his body seemed to distort and change until there was no longer a man but a white and grey wolf with the most startling white gold eyes, the gem still visible in the fluffy fur over his chest, the contrast between colors sharp and striking. There was somehow still a trace of the man he was in him, gazing at Merlin's tear streaked face in defeat.
The silence was deafening in which Merlin's mind was a shattering reflection of every fear he'd had since birth, every near death moment, every frightful encounter, every failure. His every teaching, all of his training was for naught, he remembered nothing and couldn't even if he tried, his mind a complete blank, covered and smothered by the immobilizing knowledge that he would die here and now, a prisoner to a filthy witch who tarnished the name of the magic he held dear to him and who would kill his King while he lay broken at her feet.
The expression didn't change even as Circe squeezed his neck tighter under her hand , and automatically, the wolf's jaw opened and snapped shut over Merlin's exposed neck. An almighty bang dimly registered in Merlin's hearing, his entire experience now focused on the intense burning sensation coursing through his body.
Lancelot watched in revulsion as Merlin's body bowed unnaturally in its restraints, his skin going paler than he thought possible, a horrible shriek of pain emanating from his mouth in a wail that made their hair stand on end. The mountain they were on rumbled under the supernatural noise, and for the first time since their brief acquaintance, Circe may have looked momentarily unnerved.
She removed the head restraints when Merlin finally stopped convulsing and patted Picus lightly on the head to allow him to remove his hold on the boy. He slowly opened his jaw and as gently as he could withdrew his canines, lapping at them to remove the blood seeping from the puncture wounds. It was a perverse mockery of the act of nursing a wound.
"Oh god." Elyan croaked, unable to look away from Merlin's eerily still form, the manservant's blue eyes still open.
"Merlin." Gwaine reached his bound arms out through the bars, voice breaking in sorrow. Merlin's chest was now barely rising. Arthur stared dumbly at the picture in front of him. Somehow the first thought to course through his mind was what would he tell Hunith? Gaius? Gwenivere? Oh god. He'd killed Merlin. He was the reason Merlin was going to die.
Circe then stepped up to Merlin, ignoring the contained growling of the Knights, ordering her to step away from their comrade. She pressed her lips to his chest, pulling his shirt down some to open the burned expanse of his skin to her. In the place of her kiss, a gem not unlike the one that adorned Picus formed, a crystal of such clarity that it shone bright even in the orange glow of the torchlight. Merlin's still form hadn't moved yet, stony in its stiffness.
Then a low groan echoed through the chambers, and Arthur fell back in shock when Merlin's body began to ripple, the image of it shimmering and seeming to shift in and out of focus. Then he started to morph and their cries of mourning changed into shouts of hope and then horror as they realized that Merlin was changing. Changing just like Picus.
Within seconds, Arthur found himself looking at a wolf darker than night, with piercing ice blue eyes, the expanse of him huge and intimidating. Circe looked more pleased with herself than Arthur had yet to see her. His blood coursed with unrivalled rage, looking at the smug look of satisfaction.
"You bitch."
She looked up at him while stroking Merlin's fur as he struggled to lay his head in her lap, quirking an eyebrow.
"He's far bigger than I thought he would be. I was told some grew bigger depending on their character, but this,this is better than I could have hoped for." She hugged Merlin, carding her fingers through the fur on his body.
"You deserve a fate worse than death." Lancelot breathed through the cell bars, his voice quiet but the expression he wore left little to doubt of his intentions should he ever find himself in the position to exact revenge.
The witch used her magic, waving a hand over Merlin's manacles to remove them and pushed him to his feet, watching him stagger like a newborn calf. She whistled lightly and Merlin's ears flattened, listening intently to his master, the gem nestled in his fur glowing incandescently at her words.
"Time for dinner sweetie."
Hesitation colored their faces as they caught onto how Circe planned to dispose of them. Merlin's monstrous form approached their cell, easily slipping inside through the magic he now possessed as a beast. He was easily as tall as Percival, which meant he towered over Arthur and at least 3 times the length of a regular wolf. As it was, the beast that had been his manservant was now standing in front of him, crowding them into a corner with his sheer size. His muzzle was scant centimeters from Arthur's face, who was breathing quietly and keeping as still as possible.
"Merlin." Arthur would have bet the remainder of his probably short life that recognition darted through those ice blue eyes.
"Merlin. It's us." The other Knights spoke softly, following Arthur's lead when he slowly extended a hand, moving in increments so slow that they couldn't even be sure they were actually moving.
"What are you doing, you good for nothing, animal?! I gave you an order!" Circe's impatient voice lanced through the quiet of their exhange.
They barely had time to register Merlin's turn and exit and from the cell before he was advancing on Circe and Picus, who remained in his wolf form.
Circe's countenence decidedly less confident than it had been previously.
"Merlin. I command you to cease!" She held her hand out imperiously, faltering when it seemed to only stop him for a few seconds. It was clear that whatever hold she had on him had no effect. Circe then ordered Picus to the forefront.
"Take care of him! Clearly he was a mistake." Picus looked practically diminutive in size, but Lancelot worried that experience would overwhelm the sorcerer. He needn't have worried however, because nearly as soon as Picus stood in Merlin's way, Merlin reached a massve paw out and pressed down on his head, forcing him into submission, right in front of Circe's dumbfounded face.
Then, in a split second, he swung the same paw back and batted the smaller beast harshly into the wall, a sickening crunch resonating in the air. Picus lay unmoving, a broken heap on the floor, his form transforming into that of a human man, significantly smaller than he had been before. At this moment, Merlin whipped around, lurching forward to corner the witch, blocking her exit from the room with his body.
Circe's eyes were wide with fear when Merlin brought his baleful eyes flush to her face, sniffing the air around her and tasting the terror.
"S-stop!" Gone was the self assurance, and all that remained was complete fright. Merlin advanced.
"Halt!" She tried to be firm, holding a hand out to stop him, touching his wet eyes studied his, and as she did, Gwaine could see the second in which she came to some kind of revelation. Circe fell back weakly against the wall behind her and Arthur was sure they were communicating somehow.
"Emrys." She whispered, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Her expression became pleading, and she fell to her knees in a position of supplication. "Oh please, please.I didn't know! Forgive me - !"
Merlin, how much of his mind was his own, Arthur couldn't be sure, paused and then with deadly force shot forward and snapped his jaws tightly over her body. The jewel on his chest cracked, though it did nothing to dull the shine from it.
Her scream echoed through the cavern and they couldn't help but flinch, even for the monster that this woman was. Merlin wrung her body back and forth until the noise ceased. He then opened his mouth and let his fractured carcass land on that of Picus.
Merlin turned and focused on the group huddled in the cell, looking at him in terror. The black wolf suddenly stumbled, falling to the ground, panting in exertion. He reared his head back and howled, shrill and loud, his blood stained teeth visible in the action. Almost immediately, the mountain rumbled again with the sound of snow falling.
Like an avalanche.
Merlin's pricked at the sound, and his eyes swiveled back to the Knights. They watched in shock as Merlin's body rapidly shrunk, coming back to his human form, the crystal still firmly affixed in place, though cracked. His clothes were shredded, all that remained of them were the mostly tattered remains of Merlin's trousers, slung low on his hips.
He ignored their cries of joy, and staggered to wrench the cage open, using brute strength to tear the entire front open. There was the sounds of more thundering, the avalanche more likely to hit at any moment.
Gwaine launched himself at the manservant, Lancelot following suit.
"Merlin! Mate, I thought we'd lost you!" Merlin managed a weak smile in the face of Gwaine's relief, still winded. Elyan and Leon clapped him on his bare back and Percival offered him a hand, still not close enough to Merlin to warrant the physicality of response as the others. Arthur gaped at him like he'd seen a ghost. He had been so close to dying.
"I thought - " He gasped again, through the exhaustion of trying to keep the wolf form at bay. It howled inside him, throwing itself against his own defenses, trying to take control. "I was dead too. But, we have to hurry, we have to open that door to escape that avalanche or we'll be trapped inside." Merlin shouldered past the group to the wooden door reinforced with iron and lifted it on either side, tearing it off its hinges, the metal protesting as he did so. Only he knew that what they were hearing wasn't the sound of an avalanche, but the sound of the castle they were in collapsing.
They whooped as the cold night air whipped into the room, bringing with it gales of ice. The rumbling of the snow turned into a spray of snow that showered over the entryway. Merlin gestured towards the exit urgently.
"Now!" They grabbed their weapons off the rack, missing Merlin doubling over in pain as his body fought the transformation. It was a losing battle, the beast within, gaining victory through the thick black hair that was sprouting over his arms.
The company sprinted through the doors as debris and stones began to rain down from the roof.
"Hurry you lot! It's not an avalanche, the whole bloody place is coming down!" Arthur looked as if he was going to say something to Merlin but in light of the situation decided against it. He ran outside and turned to watch the building begin to come down, when he looked back and saw that Merlin had yet to exit.
Panic welled up within him as he took in Merlin's form, bent in half, hands clutching his head, looking more beast than man.
"Merlin!" He screamed, his yell attracting the attention of the others. Gwaine's cry of grief was drowned out as the castle began to come down. "Merlin! What the hell are you doing?!"
His manservant looked at him ruefully, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry." He wheezed, his eyes apologetic. "I can't Arthur, you know that. I'm not – not human. Not anymore. I'm barely keeping myself together right now." He swallowed, and Arthur saw his eyes were no longer deep blue but the color of ice, frigid and cold.
There was a resounding crash and a boulder missed him by sheer centimeters only by Percival's quick thinking.
"Go!" Merlin pushed the two of them back and seconds later, amidst Arthur's screams of rage, the entrance collapsed, a wave of snow and ice pushing them far back.
Soon, the castle was no longer visible. Buried entirely.
Arthur and the Knight's had been knocked off of their feet by the impact. All they could do was stare at the spot where Merlin had stood. It was silent, so silent that the King thought he might go mad. Hours later they trudged back to the foot of the mountain, where their horses remained tethered where they had left them.
At their heels, the sound of a lonely wolf howling followed them all the way back to Camelot.