Thanks go to my beta Serendipity08, who is amazing! (forgot to thank her on chapter one—so sorry!)
It was a long walk back to the tents of Camelot's knights. Arthur trudged wearily, fighting himself nearly every step of the way. As king, he was slowly getting used to making choices that seemed to suck the very marrow out of his bones, but leaving Merlin behind to suffer…that took every bit of Arthur's iron will. Thus, it was with some sense of relief that he finished the climb up the long, steep hill to where his knights lay encamped.
It was obvious, and appropriate, that his absence had been noticed. He heard voices and saw torches moving quickly. So much for arriving as quietly as he'd left.
"Sire!" Elyan was the first to see him approaching, but the other knights heard and came quickly. They crowded around him, giving the king direct and somewhat frustrated looks. Arthur put off the moment of explanation to ask for a report.
Leon looked startled, but recovered in an instant. "All is quiet around the camp. However, the guard checked your tent about a half an hour ago, and woke me when you were not found. I found Merlin was missing as well. I then woke Gwaine, Percival and Elyan and asked them to help me canvass the area directly surrounding the tents. We found nothing amiss, were only just beginning to panic and—then you were here."
"Alone," Gwaine noted, his tone approaching suspicion, "Where is Merlin, your highness?"
Arthur paused to take a deep breath. Of course Gwaine would go right for the jugular. Arthur rubbed at a tense place between his eyes, the place where his worry seemed to have settled for the duration.
"Where have you been, Sire?" Leon pressed.
"I've been to visit Queen Annis." The entire group of knights shifted at this news, exchanging startled and fierce glances. "I have begged for the right of single combat, in order to prevent a costly and unjust war."
"Smartly done, Sire," Leon said. "And who will be your champion?"
"I will," Arthur said quickly, raising a hand to prevent their protestations, "It was my mistake to kill Caerleon; it is my duty to see this through."
"And Merlin?" Gwaine's voice was tense, as if he already sensed the answer to his question.
"I sought the queen out alone, but Merlin followed me." Arthur paused. "He is being held until the contest tomorrow, a guarantee against treachery on our part."
Gwaine turned away briefly. "Let me guess, we're not even going to attempt a rescue?"
"No, we're not because I am trying to prevent a war, not start one. Do you understand me, Gwaine? There will be no rescue."
Gwaine turned sullen eyes on the king. "No. I don't understand. Do you think Merlin would have left you there? To the tender mercies of a queen who wants nothing more than blood revenge?"
"No, he probably wouldn't. But then he's not a king forced to consider his every action as probable cause for the destruction of his kingdom!" Arthur took a steadying breath. "I could not take Merlin away from there and still prevent war. It was an impossible situation. Queen Annis said that Merlin will be there at the contest tomorrow and will be released upon its conclusion. We must be ready to…help him then."
The men saw, with differing reactions, that their king was tightly strung and under no condition to handle more tension. Gwaine stalked off, swearing in dark, low tones, but forced himself to keep his sword in his sheath. Elyan put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"This is difficult for you. But take heart; Merlin will endure."
Leon gave Arthur a small nod. "Now, if you're going to be fighting fit in the morning, Sire, you need rest and food. Let's go inside." Leon gestured for Arthur to return to his tent. Reluctantly, Arthur obeyed. He forced his mind down the familiar twin paths of duty and need, king and warrior.
"Follow him," Annis told her guards, and two of them slipped out quietly to follow the king of Camelot, leaving her alone with the servant. The boy was in great discomfort, and Annis allowed herself a pang of sympathy for what he must be suffering. Then she moved on. Now that her husband was gone, she alone was responsible for keeping the kingdom and the name of Caerleon strong.
"Do you require anything, your highness?" a mousy servant girl appeared and bowed at her side. Annis gestured sharply and the girl scurried away.
The queen was still considering the future. Little wonder that she hesitated, despite her conviction that Fate had delivered this momentous opportunity into her hands. For Annis had chosen to carve out for herself a weapon—one made of a fierce reputation for justice tempered with mercy.
Arthur had shown her the way, with his plea for single combat. This was a dangerous idea for a newly widowed queen whose entire kingdom was up at arms panting for revenge against Camelot. Indeed, every able-bodied man in Caerleon had been whipped into a frenzy by descriptions of Arthur and his base treatment of their king. If Annis agreed to Arthur's plea, she would be seen as a weak-willed woman who had no stomach for war. The carrion nobles back at the castle would be sharpening their daggers and watching for the perfect place to stab her in the back.
With a sudden flash of inspiration, she had found a way to not only end the war and possibly cause the king of Camelot's death, but also a way to appeal to the masses of Caerleon and appease their need for blood. This plan also had the especially rewarding benefit of bringing great pain to Arthur. Yes, she would use the boy to punish Arthur dearly for his transgression, to teach him more consideration. But even more, through Arthur's servant, the name of Annis of Caerleon would come to be respected and feared forever.
Merlin was drifting in a haze of white…just floating. Oddly enough, it felt as though he were high up and about to hit the ceiling. He had to keep his head tilted to the side to keep his face from getting scraped. Was he flying? He'd never been able to do that before. A tug in his left shoulder made him wince. Something was pulling him down, something attached on the inside. The white haze was fading to black and the tug became a fiery burn.
With a gasp, Merlin opened his eyes and fought to keep still. Breathing was painful enough. Arthur? The king was nowhere in sight, which made Merlin start to panic until he remembered the king's last words to him. Right. Be a warrior. Something he obviously excelled at. Slowly, Merlin checked his condition. He was lying down, head cradled on his jacket, arm tucked in a sling made out of his belt…did Arthur really dress his wound?
Merlin tried not to move much as he surveyed the tent. The queen was there, paying him no mind, sitting on her throne and staring off at nothing. For someone who was the leader of thuggish barbarians, she was surprisingly well spoken. But she was nothing if not ruthless. He could almost assume that her plans for him did not include continued ignoring of him. If only. He was still trying to get his breathing under control.
There was a stirring at the tent flap and two guards entered. These guards seemed slightly better dressed than most of Caerleon's, with dark leather chest plates and some sort of dark, leather helmet. Of course, they went straight for Merlin. Merlin kept silent, forgoing the pleas he knew would fall on deaf ears as they grabbed him and lifted him to his feet. The rush of agony whited out his vision, and it seemed he was standing on the rolling deck of a ship instead of solid ground. If he stood, it was not of his own volition.
Eventually, his sight returned, with nausea rolling right in behind it. He bent forward as much as he was allowed, taking the strain off his shoulder and endeavoring to quell the stirrings of his stomach. Someone, a new guard, stepped forward into Merlin's sight.
"This is him, the servant of the man who dared to kill our king?" The man's voice held nothing but contempt.
"His most trusted servant, Lwyd," Annis addressed the man with a soft tone in her voice, somewhat puzzling to Merlin. "One he treats like his own family."
Merlin snorted, a shadow of the full-bodied one he'd give if he weren't trying to keep still. He couldn't help—
A hard blow snapped his head to the right, jerking his injured shoulder and buckling his knees. His body was made of rubber, jerked and pulled in so many directions. So much pain…
"Get him up!" Someone was yelling.
After some time, Merlin opened his eyes. He was swaying and the guards had to jerk him upright every so often. Which made the pain blossom and his knees buckle again. Vicious cycle with no end. But, for some reason, Merlin could hear everything very well this time, his focus attuned to the conversation as though it was the most important thing he would ever hear.
"I don't want brute strength, Lwyd, not for this. No hidden, fatal injuries that send his king back to my castle for revenge. That is to be avoided at all cost. What I want is for Arthur to see on his servant's body the misery that was caused by his actions. I want him to feel what I felt when I saw the body of my husband. And I want our warriors to see that our mercy has teeth."
"Then why do you stay my hand?"
"Because, my warrior, this situation calls for delicacy and control. I will give you only eight strikes. Make them count."
After a pause, the warrior Lwyd, stepped closer until his breath, foul with mead, mixed with Merlin's own. "Only eight?"
"Yes. Can you obey me in this, or shall I grant your brother this honor in your stead?"
The man growled in reply, the deep rumble making Merlin's stomach churn again. He didn't want this. He couldn't handle any more pain.
"I need you to be a warrior for me, Merlin. Be brave." Was it Merlin's magic that made Arthur's remembered words shine in his mind like the silver of a freshly buffed shield? Whatever the reason, he focused on them. He must be Arthur's warrior now.
Eight strikes.
But forever afterward, Merlin could only remember three.