"I don't know how to tell you this, Arthur."

"Try."

"I have―"

"AHHHHHHH!"

"That was unexpected…" Arthur darted out of the room in search of the scream. Merlin sighed and began to follow.

"Merlin…" Gaius stopped him. "Please, don't do anything you'll regret. Truth can be a cruel thing, cold and uncaring. Your lies are what keeps Arthur safe…" Merlin shrugged off the physician.

"I know."

He ran after the retreating form of his king. Out in the courtyard, he stopped short in shock. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't a giant bird.

"It's a roc!" someone yelled. Possibly Leon. Merlin tried to remember something from Gaius's books about the creature, but came up short. Maybe he could just enchant one of the knight's weapons…

That's when he saw the person riding it.

"Morgana?!" The witch sat astride the beast, laughing and directing it towards Arthur. Merlin only had a few seconds, he knew.

"Bregdan anweald githeluec," he whispered, and Arthur's sword blazed with blue fire just before he thrust it at the roc.

He missed.

Wounded but not dead, the creature shrieked, red feathers flying everywhere. With one last swoop, it dove towards the now defenseless Arthur, who looked in vain at the sword laying on the ground some feet away.

"No! Merlin, don't!" yelled Arthur as the servant threw himself in front of the king. Merlin felt the roc's talons grasp him, and then he was jerked into the air, dangling from the bird's claws.

"Merlin," hissed Morgana from her perch on the roc's back. "At least I may in part begin to exact my revenge."

oOo

Arthur watched disbelievingly as his servant jumped in front of him, sparing no thought for his own life, and was snatched up by his broken half-sister. He thought he might have yelled something, but all of his concentration was on the scene before him. Please, not Merlin.

He found himself on his knees, and his eyes were suspiciously wet― not with tears. No, a light rain had begun to fall, that was why. The king of Camelot would never cry over a servant. Never.

No man's worth your tears.

Not even Merlin.

Am I worth his?

He won't even tell me the truth…

Or I him.

"Sire? Are you alright?" Leon's voice. Arthur blinked back what was definitely not tears and faced the knight. Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about, Sir Leon. As you were.

"No." Arthur frowned. That wasn't what he'd meant to say. "I mean, I'm fine. Sorry, I should go." The king left hastily, leaving Sir Leon blinking confusedly behind him.

"Where's Merlin, my lord?" Gaius looked at him worriedly. Arthur turned, wiping not-tears from his eyes, and stared blankly at the physician.

"I'm sorry, Gaius." That was all he needed to say. The old man paled, and leaned heavily against the wall. Arthur felt for the man, perhaps more deeply than he'd previously known.

"No… my boy," whispered Gaius. "It can't be."

"He may still be alive," Arthur said half-heartedly. It wasn't much. Morgana's heart was as cold as stone, and she would not hesitate to kill the servant. But the tiny fragment of hope, glimmering like a star in the darkness, was just enough. Just enough for Arthur to close his eyes and think with all his might, I'm coming for you, Merlin. I promise.

Perhaps Merlin could hear him. Perhaps the message would be carried on the wind and starlight, and come to the servant facing nightmares for his king, and give him the strength to hold on. Perhaps Merlin could hear him even now, by some ancient power, by some… magic?

Maybe so.

oOo

I'm coming for you, Merlin. I promise. Arthur's voice echoed in his mind. Merlin woke with the king's promise still ringing in his ears, and he knew that Arthur would keep his word. All he had to do was survive until then.

The young warlock tried to sit up, but found his hands bound behind him, secured to a metal ring fastened in the ground. Looking around, he inferred that he must be in a ancient ruin of some sort (Albion held enough of those).

"Awake, I see," drawled a familiar voice that sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "Let the fun begin."

"What do you want with me, Morgana?"

"Information. And it appears someone's been kind enough to go and put a truth spell on you; less work for me. To be honest, such magic would have been difficult even for me." Morgana smirked. "Good job I'm so lucky, then, isn't it?"

"I will never betray Arthur!"

"Not willingly, no. But you don't have to be willing, do you?" Merlin paled, and Morgana chuckled harshly. She leaned over and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him forward slightly.

"Who. Is. Emrys?"

Oh, no. No no no. Couldn't you have been a bit less straightforward?

"Emrys. That's a name from the Druid legends, isn't it?" he said, carefully avoiding the question.

"Don't patronise me, Merlin. I know you know. Just tell me."

"Emrys is a sorcerer! Arthur would never enlist the help of sorcerers!" Not knowingly, at least. Merlin was finding ways to dodge the truth, not lying but not telling all of the truth either. He grinned inwardly. He could do this.

Then Morgana produced a small dagger from inside her cloak.

"I'm telling the truth, I swear!" Most of it, at least.

"Yes, yes, you haven't much choice in that. But you're a bit more clever than I gave you credit for." Without warning, she grabbed his arm and slashed the blade across his hand. Merlin gasped as white-hot threads of pain shot up his arm. The witch carefully drew a cloth across the cut and turned away, pleased with herself.

"I may not be quite experienced enough to cast a truth spell," said she, "But I certainly know how to strengthen one." Morgana dropped the cloth into a silver bowl filled with dark liquid.

"Sé dréor fram sé ambihtere eerie sóþfæstnes fram gebrægd!" Flames sprung from the silver bowl. When they faded, the liquid had turned a bright gold. Morgana grasped the bowl and slowly carried it over to the young sorcerer, being careful not to spill a drop.

Merlin tried to back (or scootch, rather) away, but hit the stone wall behind him. The witch stopped in front of him and set the bowl down.

She's gonna force-feed me gross magic truth juice, isn't she.

He was proved right when Morgana grabbed his chin and poured the liquid down his throat. Spluttering, he sat forward and stared at the ground. He'd been right; the stuff tasted like one of Gaius's potions. Which is to say, not pleasant.

"Now, I'll ask you again: Who is Emrys?"

"I-I am."

*Spell translations: "Move the powerful weapon."

"The blood from the servant shall separate the truth from deceit!