4. ARTHUR THE RED
Warnings: A very dark, angsty and gore fic I wrote for the sake of my inner demons.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
His eyes opened slowly in the now familiar semi-darkness of the dungeons, his ears alert to the sounds of the preparations made for a new day in the Arena. There was a constant rattling of chains as new slaves were brought in their cells or moved around and a clinging of armors, shields and weapons as they were being repaired, cleaned and polished for a new day of glory and death. He forced himself to sit upright in the small bed, pushing the rough blanket away from his bare skin, and stretched his back and his neck. The cut on his left upper arm still stung every time he moved, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in his head. Every morning he would curse himself for drinking so much Liquor, only to drink some more the next evening. Most of the slaves and the guests coming from the 'outside' were consuming the Liquor completely unaware of what they were drinking. It was a strong wine mixed with the blood of the warriors fallen in the Arena, and with powerful spices. It had highly hallucinogen effects and because of that, some believed that regular consumption brought visions of the future, thus attributing it a higher purpose than that of what it really was, a wicked and appalling drug. But then again, such knowledge was rather futile, since those willing to indulge in the pleasures of the Underworld had long disposed of any decency, and the slaves simply didn't care and needed it anyway. He had grown to need it too, it gave him beautiful dreams and made him sleep so well, thus he was glad the warrior slaves were supplied with it for free. After all, there was plenty of blood.
It was almost noon – everybody in the Underworld would wake around noon and go to bed around midnight - and the serving slaves brought him a rich breakfast, mainly almost raw meat, some dark bread and water. One of the slaves checked his wound and re-dressed it, another brought fresh clothes, while a massive lycan cleaned his armor and sharpened his sword. They all moved precisely, to the purpose, without unnecessary words. His fight was among the first of the day, so there was no time to waste. Once they were finished with the preparations, one slave helped him get dressed, another put on his armor and the lycan oiled it all over so it would be all slippery and divert blows. Then they wrapped red strips of cloth on his hands, leaving only his fingers out - red for luck, after all he was the only warrior slave of their house and Master had ordered special care. After that, the usual bowl with fresh blood was brought forward and he slowly sank his hands in it, carefully observing the thick red liquid as it first engulfed his fingers, and then his palms, eventually reaching his wrists.
Our tears in their blood they said down here. It was a ceremonial incantation for all warriors who were about to walk upon the sands, but occasionally it was more than that – it was a cry of revenge. For him it was so and he thought of it every time, even if it wasn't his enemies he was striking down. But it was a pleasant fiction and it kept him going.
"OUR TEARS IN THEIR BLOOD!" he shouted out loud, thinking of his lost father, his lost love, his lost kingdom and his lost life. "Our tears in their blood" the servants repeated respectfully, and he walked past the iron gates, onto the snow white sand.
-x-
Merlin walked alone through the dark tunnel that led to the Arena, occasionally swinging the torch in his hand. He hated the Arena and fortunately for the last year he'd been spared of the sight of it. Effen Amberath had not yet been replaced and both he and Whiteflower were now serving Effen Alia. Alia went to the Arena quite often, since she and Jarblack had plenty of work with the warrior slaves, but she seemed to have understood Merlin's repulsion, so she only took Whiteflower with her, leaving him with various other tasks around the castle. Until today, when Whiteflower had sent message that Effen Alia needed him there, a year later from that horrible day. A year, he mused, sorrowful. A year already, spent in this hellish darkness, with no news of the outside world. And no news of Arthur.
Whiteflower was waiting for him at the gate of the main aisle, impatient. She was happy to see him, as usual, a thing which always managed to lighten his mood, but also for some mysterious reason, she was very excited.
"So what does Effen Alia want me to do today?" he asked.
"Just one task in the evening, but she had no other chores for you and she didn't want you to be seen at the castle sitting without work" she explained.
"What task in the evening?" Merlin asked suspicious.
"You'll be serving Master in person, in his secret apartments. Effen Alia would trust no other servant but you"
"But Master has his personal slaves, the ones who are usually attending to him" he said surprised.
"Yes, but tonight no one must know where Master is, he's hiding" Whiteflower replied.
"Hiding?"
"From his wives. There was a merchant at the castle today, bringing some jewels. When he left, a brooch or some similar trinket fell from his bag and the wives found it. They immediately started fighting for it and Master came to solve the problem, so he took the jewel and cast it into the fire, so none of them would have it"
"Quite a wise decision" Merlin observed.
"I'm not so sure, the wives got angry and swore to kick his ass"
"Over some stupid jewel? That's ridiculous"
"Well, the wives may have other reasons as well… You know, they are all childless, it is said that he cannot conceive. As long as they remain his wives, their womb will not bear fruit"
"That's sad…" Merlin said, shaking his head.
"They have good shelter, good food and all the entertainment and pleasure they desire, without having to do any sort of work" Whiteflower said sternly "I say they could have had a worse fate"
"I know" Merlin gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
Effen Alia sat at a small table in their section, scribbling something with a quill on a piece of paper, while another stack of papers lay by her side. She stole glances at the action in the Arena from time to time.
"Effen Alia, it looks like you have a busy day" Merlin noticed.
"Master is angry because our warrior slaves suck. We had only one victory and five defeats this month, the new lot is scum, only the ogre Orlog is sort of good. Jarblack has been working his ass out with them but he's not young anymore and it's not much to work with anyway. So I have to assess the warriors of the other Houses, to see if we can buy some, and I also have to fill in the invitations for the feast next week. In the same time" she explained motioning to the stack of papers. "Feel free to make suggestions"
"Oh my God, they've announced it!" Whiteflower nearly jumped from her seat.
"What?"
"Arthur of the House of Zoar fights the Clovan twins of the House of Hamza!" she announced proudly.
Merlin flinched involuntarily. "Did you say Arthur…?" he whispered.
Effen Alia gave them both a quizzical glance. "I don't see the reason of this excitement, really". Saying that, she resumed her writing.
"There he comes!" Whiteflower squealed, clapping her hands.
The iron gate was lifted and indeed Arthur walked into the Arena, wearing a bronze armor and shield with the crest of the House of Zoar – a bronze eagle with spread wings, and a long sword. Merlin's heart jumped with unexpected joy, only to see his hopes brutally crushed a moment later, when the Cloven twins entered through the opposite gate. There were three of them, not two as he had expected, three identically looking savages, each carrying two enormous battle axes. The crowd greeted them with wild cheers and they responded accordingly.
"Oh, no! NO! He doesn't stand a chance!" he all but screamed. It was much too cruel – to find Arthur at last, alive and well, only to watch him being slaughtered before his very eyes. Far more than anything he could bear.
"Merlin? What happened?" Whiteflower asked concerned, gently placing an arm around his shoulders.
"He's my best friend, and just when I finally found him, he'll be…" he managed to say, before tears choked him.
"Merlin, what's wrong?" Effen Alia asked, but was interrupted when a servant came.
"Effen Moro Pellemargaroth is here to see you, Effen Alia". She let out a groan.
"Alia, I had to come and see you, I hear your House is in trouble. Rumor has it that Galiel has bought nothing but garbage this time" Pellemargaroth spoke ironically.
"Very bold of you to say that, Moro, just when your only warrior is about to be chopped to pieces" she replied sharply, motioning to the Arena.
"How wrong you are, sweet lady" Moro laughed. "Our warrior will have yet another victory and that stupid dwarf Hamza will be bitterly humiliated" he added confident. "Anyway, I hope to see you in two days, if your Master agrees to my proposal" he then said handing her a folded piece of paper and walked away.
"This is definitely one of those days when all the idiots are upon us" Alia muttered under her breath. "What's wrong Merlin?"
But Merlin had collapsed into Whiteflower's arms, shaken by violent sobs, as he wept desperately.
"Arthur is his best friend, and now he'll watch him die" the girl said, obviously moved by the young warlock's suffering.
"Shit!" Effen Alia cursed. "I'm sorry, Merlin, there's nothing I can do" she said with a compassionate expression. "Whiteflower, it is best if you take him away from here, he mustn't see this. Take him down to the dungeons, see if Jarblack needs help with anything"
With great effort, Whiteflower managed to take Merlin into the dungeons, as he was barely able to walk and clung to her arm at every step. Once there, she helped him sit on an empty bed in one of the cells. Jarblack poked his head inside to see what had happened and Whiteflower had to give yet another account of the facts.
"Give the boy some Liquor, it might help" the giant suggested.
Whiteflower quickly filled a cup and handed it to Merlin, who stared for a moment at the purple iridescent liquid before downing it in one gulp. He almost immediately collapsed on the bed, with his eyes closed, feeling numb and limp. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, in his soul the pain was vivid, tearing him apart mercilessly. Above them, the audience cheered and screamed, and every sound made him flinch, as an image of Arthur bloodied and dying lingered behind his eyelids. Whiteflower had kneeled near the bed, holding his hand in hers, and he squeezed unconsciously.
-x-
An eternity of torment seemed to pass before he eventually heard Effen Alia's voice.
"Merlin?"
He struggled to open his eyes and observed her unreadable expression.
"Listen, Merlin" she said gently.
"ARTHUR! ARTHUR! ARTHUR THE RED!" the crowd roared in total frenzy.
"He's alive? He won?" Merlin whispered as he sat up abruptly, not yet daring to hope.
She nodded. "Yeah he won. Now we'll never see the end of Pellemargaroth's gloating!" Effen Alia shook her head. "That fucking idiot!" she swore.
"Can we go see him?" Whiteflower asked, jumping to her feet.
"See him? Is that possible?" Merlin whispered, almost disbelieving.
Effen Alia rolled her eyes. "Very well, go see if he'll receive you. But no more than half an hour, Merlin needs to get back to the castle and attend to Master" she agreed.
Whiteflower ran down the dark corridors towards the dungeons of the House of Zoar, almost dragging Merlin after her. A lycan stopped them at the entrance.
"We're here to see Arthur the Red" she explained quickly, her voice choked with emotion.
"We're his friends" Merlin added.
The lycan groaned and opened the door, peeking inside. "Arthur, there's a boy and a girl here to see you. Do I let them in?"
"Yes, let them in" Merlin heard the familiar voice of his prince, followed by the sound of an armor being dropped on the stone floor.
They both burst in through the open door, nearly knocking the lycan off his feet.
"Arthur, congratulations on your great victory!" Whiteflower squealed, going straight to the prince and all but jumping into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you" He smiled and his arm went around her waist, squeezing lightly. She then pulled away abruptly and ran out, blushing, briefly muttering an "I'll wait for you outside" to Merlin.
"Pretty girl! Thanks for bringing her, Merlin" Arthur said amused.
Merlin blinked a couple of times, disbelieving and feeling a slight pang of jealousy. And after a year of not having any idea if he was alive or dead, that's what Arthur had to say to him. He snapped.
"You're a complete PRAT!" he shouted, overwhelmed by mixed emotions.
"Merlin, you never cease to surprise me. You came all the way down to Underworld to tell me that I am a prat. I'm impressed"
"Arthur…" Merlin whispered, fighting to blink away his tears.
Suddenly Arthur approached him and this time he really went for a hug, pulling Merlin into his arms and holding him tightly.
"I know, Merlin, I know everything…" he said in a soothing voice. Merlin let his head fall against his prince's shoulder, sobbing, still finding hard to believe that this was real.
"Well, here we are" Merlin said at last. "Now everything will be alright"
Arthur shook his head and went to sit on his bed. "No Merlin, I'm afraid it won't be" he said weary.
"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, suddenly worried.
"Merlin, as a warrior I have… some privileges, let's say" Arthur explained sighing. "As such, I was able to pay coin to one of the spies who travel to the 'outside world' and to find out what happened lately"
Merlin sat down on the cold floor of Arthur's cell, hugging his knees and resting his forehead on them. The prince's sad tone foretold nothing good. Arthur drew a deep breath before beginning to speak.
"Camelot is currently ruled by Queen Morgana Pendragon and Prince Consort Annhar of Greytower. That damned Morgause is of course by her sister's side, Gaius is still at Court, under strict surveillance, and so is Leon. The other knights are scattered." Arthur paused to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. "And my father is dead. He died at my funeral"
"And Gwen? What happened to Gwen?" Merlin asked, noticing that the prince hadn't mentioned her.
Arthur buried his face in his palms. "Gwen is fine, Merlin. She's in good health, and I believe she's safe" He sighed again "She married Lancelot"
Merlin lifted his head, surprised. "Married Lancelot? So soon? But… couldn't she have waited a bit longer?"
Arthur stood up, angry. "Merlin, have you not listened to what I've been telling you? Everyone in Camelot thinks we are dead. There was a funeral"
"But-"
"Morgana claimed that we fought a terrible beast and it devoured us, leaving nothing but our bones. She brought some bones back to Camelot, together with our bloodied clothes and my armor! Gwen saw my bones burn!" he nearly shouted. "There is nothing left for her to wait for!"
"But it's not over, Arthur! We're not dead! We're alive and we'll get out of here and-"He stopped when he noticed Arthur's expression, a mixture of pain and pity.
"There's no getting out of here, Merlin. No one can leave Underworld without the Lords' permission, there's no escaping from it. It's over"
Merlin's eyes filled with tears once more, a sudden feeling of utter defeat and despair upon him.
"But that's not your destiny. You're the Once and Future King…" he whispered.
Arthur slowly walked to his table and began filling a goblet with Liquor. He watched it in concentration as he poured, smiling sadly at its purple glow.
"No, Merlin. I'm Arthur the Red, the Once and Only warrior slave of the House of Zoar, and you're Merlin, slave of the House of Galiel. We're both nothing but miserable slaves and this is how we'll meet our end" he concluded taking a long sip.
Merlin shook his head. "I can't believe it! And the way you say it, it seems you almost take pride in it"
"I take pride in what I can these days, Merlin. I advise you to do the same"
Merlin wiped his tears with a trembling hand. "The only thing I ever took pride in was you, Arthur…"
The prince remained silent.
"At least… can I still come and see you?" he asked.
"Of course, if you have the time. And if I stay alive…" Arthur replied with a wry smile.
-x-
As Merlin walked out the door, numb with hopelessness, Arthur sighed again. After all, Merlin was so young, so innocent, so helpless against the evils of this world, so idealistic and full of dreams and he'd had to brutally crush all that by revealing the truth. He'd hated every second of it, all the more since he knew there was nothing he could have done to make it easier on him, to alleviate his pain. Merlin was not the kind that could adjust easily, there was no making him cope with reality in a gentle way and as much as he kept speaking of destiny, it would be hard for him to come to its terms. Silently, the prince cursed Witch King Ironed, Morgause, Queen Morgana and her husband, and all those who had plotted for their disgrace. He filled his goblet again and gulped down the Liquor, savoring the intoxicating feeling of it running down his throat, into his veins, mingling with his blood. He dropped on his back on the bed and let the goblet fall from his hand, absentmindedly watching it as it rolled down on the floor, and he abandoned himself once more to the land of dreams.
Merlin left Zoar's dungeons feeling a dull but still protruding pain in his chest. Could it really be over for him and Arthur? As he pondered, he was more and more inclined to believe so. At least Gaius and their friends were alright, as little solace as that was. Whiteflower offered to walk him to the gate of their tunnel and he gently took her hand in his, convinced that she was one of the very few good things that were left to him in this life.
They were near the gates when they were surrounded. Four commoners had them backed against the wall and one of them grabbed Whiteflower by the hair, pulling her to him. She let out a scream, struggling wildly.
"Let her go! Now!" Merlin hissed, his hand moving down to grip the dagger he kept into his belt.
"The girl's too pretty for a weakling like you, boy" the commoner said and the other men laughed. "She's coming with me"
"You are insulting the House of Galiel!" Merlin shouted.
"The House of Galiel can kiss my arse!" More laughter followed as they men began closing in on them.
"Let her go or I swear I'll kill you!"
"Yeah? Let's see you do that!"
Suddenly the man let go of Whiteflower, charging on Merlin. He knocked the young warlock off his feet and straddled him, his hands closing around his neck in a deadly grip. But Merlin's hand moved and clutched the dagger almost unconsciously, thrusting it desperately into the man's chest, up to its handle. The attacker let out a choked rattle and his limp body fell off to the side. The warlock pushed him aside and jumped on his feet, the bloodied dagger ready in his hands. The other three men were quick to make their escape.
Merlin, son of Balinor, is worthy of your trust… For he will kill for you Merlin remembered as he finally let the dagger fall from his hand and he pulled Whiteflower to his chest. He held her tightly as she wept, gently caressing her ruffled hair. Who knew what cruelty and evil they had yet to face in this bitter life before death would eventually take them? Maybe Effen Alia alone…
So much for today's disturbing creation :) Please R&R!