Chapter two:

Instigation torture

Merlin stood, stale sweat dripping down his face onto his upper lip. His back was against the crude cut rock wall, his hands bounded behind him in a tight knot and lifted so the rope was snagged on a hook like barb coming out of the wall. His feet slipped as he tried to find purchase on the tip of his feet, he winced as the moment pulled painfully on his shoulder; a POP emerging from his muscle. He cursed.

He let his eyes sweep across the room as far as they could go; it seemed for the millionth time. Again, just like all the other times before, he could not help but hold down the bitter bile that rose in his throat or the painful twisting in his lower gut. He did not know why he tortured himself so, he snorted at the thought the irony, it seemed almost comical as he was locked and bound in a torture chamber.

This chamber had been here long before Merlin had been born from his mother's womb. These so called chambers had once been a fashion in every king's fort, castle, and home estate. What once had been a crude room deep below in the catacombs of the dungeons with just a simple chair bound to the floor with iron and a strap to keep the occupant from moving had now turn into a hellish nightmare. Over time, kings had borrowed methods from the Romans such as their hellish form of blind folding their convict and taking them, stripping them down to bare skin and whipping them with rods, leaving the prey of the torturer bloody and crying for days. Some kingdoms in the British Isles went as far as boiling the poor souls in water sometimes just their feet to get them to speak or their whole body if the king was in a foul mood, boiling them alive. Merlin had seen this once, remembered the odor of boiled flesh, the animal like squeals cut down to gurgles, the eyes soulless and petrified.

There had always been a torture chamber in Camelot's castle. Set up by Ambrosia, Uther's brother, a famous war general and king who reigned what seemed eons ago. It had been used back then, of course, as that was the way of life, but as time grew and expanded onward it just became a shadowy room filled with contempt and old bitter ghost of days past. Merlin was the first person in a decade to be placed into the room. His feet had skidded and trailed in the dust as the knights had drug his body across the floor and tied him up. He had been in here for three nights and four days. How he knew that he couldn't be sure for there was no windows to let sunlight or cloud light or moonlight in. He counted the days by the change of the guard outside the door. They shifted by threes. He got little to no food which he supposed was suspected.

"Meque his exsolvite vincula fune quod captant carne mea" Merlin tried in vain once more to loosen or dispel the rope around his wrist. No luck. His magic could not, would not, work on Magia declinavi, an object that deflected all enchantments.

He heard footfalls outside the door to his "safe haven" and watched it as the hinges moaned in protest as the door opened. Merlin observed as black leather boots, their heels and the front covered in mud, advanced to stand in front of him. There was a beat of silence.

"Are you going to talk now Merlin?" the voice asked, soft, gentle. Not the tone of a persecutor.

Merlin looked up and into the eyes of Gawain. The young spirited, handsome, roughish man who had joined the ranks of the knights when Arthur was but a prince when he had forfeited his own life and freedom to save the prince in a mêlée, now was a somber man in his near forties. His black hair was now ragged and unkempt with streaks of pale grey hidden within. He walked with a limp given to him when he had suffered an almost death blow when fighting in pursuit of Morgana. His eyes were dim and his usual smiling face was set in a thin, tight line.

"I have nothing new to say," Merlin said. "I have said the same thing over and over again, and will the same thing now. The potion was not meant for anyone at court or Arthur, but for my own use and infliction. But then again, my voice always did fall short in the crowd."

Despite trying to make a light joke, Gawain did not smile. "The reason the king put you in this room Merlin is for your own safety more than any other thing. Most believe you lie and the poison was for the king, but I, myself as well as some of the older seasoned knights, and the king himself, believe you. We just do not understand the reason as to why."

Merlin snorted," Of course you do not! Locking me in this chamber of death and dismal decay like this," he shifted his hands to emphasize his point, the rope cutting him raw, "is supposed to make me more eager to talk? I never been one for lush care dedicated to one of my stature but I do not deserve this kind of treatment."

Gawain bit his lip. He hated seeing Merlin in this position, anyone really. It had come to him as a shock when word of Merlin's "plot" and arrest by the king himself had finally reached his ears. He had been out on patrol in the western province of the kingdom. He, for one second, did not believe Merlin capable of killing anyone, especially the king. Arthur was much as a brother to Merlin then anyone. No, what shocked him the most was that Arthur put him in this godforsaken room, tied up like this, and the proclamation Merlin made about the dose being for his own self use. While he knew it was to keep Merlin safe, it still did not rest well with him. He could not grasp it.

"Arthur is doing it to keep you safe, Merlin. A lot of the people think you tried to kill the king and he can't just dismiss it, even if we do believe your word. The people would think him weak for dismissing a threat as such as nothing….and see it as favoritism without a trial against you. Evidence and witness' are being accounted for now. It would help; you would help yourself, my friend if you just told us why. Why would you want to….take a potion meant for death?"

Merlin licked his lips, they were dry. He knew, without a doubt that the trial would end badly and Arthur would have to put him to death. He never meant for it to be like this and never intended for anyone to find out about the potion. If he told the truth he put Arthur in danger and if he didn't he, himself, would die…and Arthur would be in danger still. If he was dead he could not help the king. If he told the truth he would still likely die, Arthur would be in danger, but he had more of a chance.

"I will talk."

Gawain let out a breath of relief and had to stop himself from letting out a whoop. He nodded and instructed the man outside the door to come in. The hooded man, with only his eyes and mouth showing through cut out slits strode towards Merlin. His skin was grey and scaly as he undid the knots around Merlin's wrist and the Warlock fell to the floor. He hissed as his ankle landed sideways underneath him.

"Careful!" Gawain exclaimed helping Merlin up and dusting him off. He threw a glare at the instigator. He gave the man orders to wait outside the room and bade Merlin to sit on the chair in the corner of the room. Merlin obeyed.

"So tell me Merlin, so we may close this case of mystery. "

Merlin rubbed his arm and looked about the room. Taking in the rack, meant for stretching people to the point they break, the tools stained heavily with rust from not being used in a hundred of years, dried blood he couldn't believe was still there, coals in the corner of the room no more than ash.

"I'll talk. But I want Arthur present. I want my king present. For the reason I conducted the potion was not to kill the king but to save his life. Not to kill the king but to kill me. I want to explain to the king the game I am playing and the rules. It's my job always to protect Arthur. My destiny. My destiny is turning again. Now…I have to tell Arthur the game and the rules…for now that I have spoken and the potion found…his life is the pawn."

Thank you for reading and thank you for all the reviews, keep them coming! I hope to update again soon. This one is for all of you.