Hey thanks for reading! :)
This might go up to 4 chapters, we shall see.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, the show or the legend.
The soft, feather pillow scratched against Arthur's cheek as he gently slumbered in the comforts of his soft bed. Wait. Scratched? Pillows were not supposed to itch, especially those that belonged to a king.
Slowly the heavy eyelids of Arthur Pendragon rose until his crystal blue eyes were in two slits. His hands ascended to grab his forehead when a sudden burst of pain reached the surface. With a couple of shakes of his head, the sharp pain subsided into a dull ache.
"Merlin," Arthur hoarsely whispered, eyes widening a bit.
It was then that he realized he was in the dark. Where were they? In a cell?
Of course that's where we are. That's what happens whenever we go out, isn't it? He thought bitterly.
Alternating between squinting and opening his eyes, he was able to adjust to the lack of light until he saw the basic shapes of objects. He noticed a stick in the far right corner of the small room and squinted at it…was that a broom?
Why would a broom be in a cell …unless this wasn't cell at all? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
Arthur tried to recall what had happened before he had woken up, but the last thing he could recall was having the usual trade of banter with Merlin on a hunting trip and then chasing a deer through the thicket. After that, all there was a dark period which he usually went through after he had been knocked out by some magical creature. He would go unconscious and when he would wake Merlin would be there, telling him he had once again defeated an evil creature. Wait a moment…where was his manservant?
"Merlin," Arthur cried out a bit louder looking around the room wide-eyed, concern rising up in the back of his mind, concern for his own well-being, yes, but more so for Merlin.
If this was a cell, if they had been captured, then Merlin should be next to him. He should at least be in a cell within hearing distance. So why wasn't he answering?
With a falter in his breath, sudden realization fell upon him.
What if Merlin wasn't in a cell? What if he was being tortured!
It would make sense. He was the servant of the King of Camelot, an easy target for any enemy to break, far more likely to reveal information than a strong-willed warrior, trained from birth to resist torture. Merlin was there for every meeting. For every secret planning. He knew Camelot's deepest secrets. With the right amount of pain he would spill everything he knew in a matter of minutes, and Camelot's defenses would be compromised, vulnerable for any evil power, Morgana was who Arthur thought was most likely responsible for their predicament, to overtake, yet somehow Arthur couldn't bring himself to worry about his kingdom.
For the most prevalent part of his epiphany was that his best friend was probably in unbearable pain. Despite how brave the man was, he was still only a servant, and even the bravest and loyalist of servants couldn't will themselves to tolerate the torturing pain people like Morgana brought. Even his knights, like Eylan, couldn't withstand her torture.
Merlin was in pain, and that made Arthur angrier and more worried than anything else.
He needed to get to him, to save him, to escape with him. They'd ride back to Camelot and then protect the against whatever evil came their way, even if Merlin disclosed vital information. They would still end up okay, they always found a way, and everything always worked out. Merlin, the Knights, the citizens, Gwen, they'd all be fine.
But he couldn't do anything until he got Merlin and himself out of this place, wherever that may be. So that is why Arthur continued his ever growing in volume calls.
"Merlin," Arthur called out, moving his hands around in the space around him, trying to find something to help him stand. For some reason his legs felt wobbly. How long had he been sitting in this strange cell?
Suddenly he brushed his fingers against some cloth. He patted it a few more times to find that is was leather. He wrapped his fingers around it, a puzzled expression gracing his face. It felt familiar.
"Merlin?" Arthur shouted out, shaking the fabric. With a sudden jolt the leather began to move, causing Arthur to shoot back in surprise. After a moment a deep moan came from the clothes. With another bout of movement the leather folded in on itself revealing a pale face and jet black hair which barely stood out in the darkness.
"Merlin," Arthur sighed out, the concern in his voice lowering until it disappeared, leaving it behind only in his mind. Leaning his head against the stone wall behind him, he let out another sigh. Merlin was safe and so was Camelot.
"Arthur?" Merlin roughly mumbled out, concern now in his voice. Arthur turned his attention back to his servant who, by what Arthur could make out, was turning his head every which way, getting a feel for his surroundings.
"Yes?" Arthur asked, his puzzled expression returning. What did Merlin know that would make him concerned? Merlin stopped looking around and locked onto the shape of Arthur's head.
"Why are we in a cupboard?" Merlin asked confusedly.